


Celestial Mechanics

by pickleplum



Series: Learning to Fly [23]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Absent Parents, Acceptance, Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Animal Traits, Apologies, Arguing, Artificial Intelligence, Astronomy, Athene Noctua Verse, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Kissing, Awkwardness, Babies, Bad Puns, Birthday Presents, Blood, Body Dysphoria, Boredom, Boundaries, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Broken Families, Brother Feels, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Canon Disabled Character, Caretaking, Character(s) of Color, Christmas With Family, Chronic Pain, College, Coming Out, Conversations, Crying, Cute, Cute Kids, Dating, Depression, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Disabled Character, Disapproving Family, Dogs, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endearments, Engagement, Established Relationship, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family History, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Female Characters, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Gift Giving, Gossip, Graduate School, Harry Potter (reference), Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Holding Hands, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Insults, Isolation, Kissing, Letters, Lies of Omission, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), Lost Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Making Out, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage Proposal, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morning Routines, Multilingual Character, Musical References, Nerdiness, Nicknames, Oblivious, Pet Names, Pets, Phone Calls & Telephones, Photographs, Promises, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Racism, Responsibility, Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Revelations, Roommates, Rule Breaking, Same-Sex Marriage, Scars, Scents & Smells, Science Boyfriends, Science Nerds, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Separations, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Shovel Talk, Sibling Love, Siblings, Slurs, Sobriety, Social Anxiety, Socks, Stargazing, Stars, Studying, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Surveillance, Swearing, Teaching, Texting, Threats of Violence, Tickling, Trans Character, University, Waiting, Weddings, Wingfic, Wings, Worry, Writing, Young Love, internalized ableism, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 107
Words: 85,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann Gottlieb, sixteen and on his own for the first time, is living the dream as a student in the University of Manchester's astronomy and physics program: he has a full scholarship, top marks, and a small circle of friends. He doesn't hope for anything more, but he might just find what he least expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decided

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ginger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246549) by [pickleplum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann chooses which university he will attend and asks Dietrich for advice on breaking the news to their father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26 March 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1309.jpg [Lovell Telescope @ Jodrell Bank Observatory, Lower Withington, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

The minute they finish supper—

Bastien leans forward, clutching the tablecloth, „ _Doctor Who_ pre-premiere specials?“

Father clears his throat.

Bastien rolls his eyes, grumbles, „May I be excused?“

„You may.“

„Thank you for dinner, Father,“ says Dee.

„Thanks,“ adds Karla.

„You're welcome." Father folds his napkin. „I'll be in my study.“ Gets up, leaves the table.

Bastien flutters his eyelashes. „My dear siblings, would you care to join me in the drawing room for televised entertainment?“

Dee smiles apologetically, „Dishes.“

Karla cringes. „Same.“

„I'll help Dee,“ Hermann offers.

Dee frowns slightly.

„Really? Thanks!“

„C'mon!“

Bastien and Karla dash off to the sitting room.

Dee suggests, „You collect the silver while I get the glasses?“

„Sure.“

They clear the table and load the dishwasher.

„Will you help me with something on my computer?“

„Of course.“

Hermann leads Dee to his room, offers his bed.

Dee sits, folds his hands, smiles reassurance.

„Th—“ Hermann clears his throat. „Thanks for this.“

„You're welcome.“

Hermann takes a deep breath. „Would you like tea?“

„I could go for decaf in an hour or so.“

Hermann nods absently, then, „How's Sabine?“

„Busy and stressed.“

„Of course.“

„What would you like help with?“

Hermann wipes his hands on his trousers. „I've decided.“

„The lucky school is ...?“

„The University of Manchester.“ Hermann spins his chair around, retrieves a logo-emblazoned folder with a trembling hand.

Dee accepts and opens it, skims the pages inside. „This ... this is impressive.“ Looks up and beams. „They want to give you the world.“

Hermann swallows, croaks, „The sky, too.“ Swallows again. „If I maintain my marks, they'll grant me three times the usual hours at Jodrell Bank. Wha-whatever I want to study.“

„That's **amazing** , Manny.“ He sets the paperwork aside, glows at Hermann. „It's everything you wanted.“

„ **More** than I wanted. This's what I've **dreamed** of.“

„All your hard work is paying off.“

„ **If** Father ....“

„Aaaah ... **that's** why you want my help.“

Hermann chews his lip, nods a fraction.

„Alright.“ Dee sits straighter. „He's going to ask why you're passing on his university. They have astrophysics, too, yes?“

„They do, but they don't have a dark matter specialist or the Lovell telescope.“

„What about other German schools?“

Hermann shakes his head. „They don't have what I want from a programme. TU Berlin comes the closest.“

„But they don't have dark matter or a great big telescope on call.“

„They don't.“

„Manchester will pay for everything.“

„Yes. Tuition, room, board, books, transit pass, a laptop, a printing allowance, a pre-paid card for the campus shop ... everything I need to survive—“ Shifts. „—except my medications.“

„I don't think Father will hold those hostage. He may not want you to leave, but he never wants to hurt you.“ Runs a hand through his hair. „There may also be a way besides Father to get what you need.“

Hermann frowns. „Don't get yourself in trouble.“

„There's no risk of that.“

„Good. I don't want anyone hurt for my sake.“

Dee shifts. „How do you want to explain this to Father?“

„I was, uh, hoping you'd have a suggestion.“

Dee considers. „Have you sent an acceptance yet?“

„I wanted to wait until I had permission to go.“

„You've drafted it?“

Hermann sniffs.

„Of course you have.“ Dee grins, eyes sparkling. „Send it electronically right now.“

„Why?“ Hermann swivels his chair, wakes his PC.

„Father believes promises must be kept.“

Hermann pauses with his fingers on the keyboard. „So if I've already promised them I'll attend ....“

„He'll feel compelled to let you go.“

„You're evil.“ Hermann attaches his draft to an email, takes a deep breath, and clicks 'send'.

„Sabine's teaching me.“

„Thank her for me.“ He turns off his monitor with a very final-sounding _chik_. „It's done.“

„Excellent. Ready to tell Father?“

Hermann shuffles his loosely-bound wings, squares his shoulders. „I believe I am.“

Dee stands, offers a hand up. „Then let's go share the good news.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [David Jones](https://www.flickr.com/photos/cloudsoup/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/cloudsoup/1497639019/).
> 
> I've explained my works are always works-in-progress, right? So, those of you who've been reading are hopefully not too confused by the sudden appearance of a new first chapter.
> 
> New readers: welcome to this wild ride!


	2. Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Hermann leaves for university in England, Lars shares a secret, some advice, and a phone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 September 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1404.jpg [Alan Turing statue, Manchester, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann stares into his half-packed suitcase, wings quivering beneath his layers despite a binder tightened as far as it will go. He tries to center himself with deep breaths.

It doesn't help and he sighs.

„I have more clothes~!“ sings Bastien, bouncing into Hermann's room with arms overflowing with laundry. „Mrs Krüger's hanging out another load, too.“

„Set it on the bed, please,“ croaks Hermann. „Thank you.“

„Are you alright?“

Hermann pulls his pajamas from the top of the pile. „I'm fine, just—“ Deep breath. „—worried I'll forget something.“

„Can I help?“

„That would be lovely. Would you bring over my binders, please?“

Bastien beams, hops over to the dresser, rummages about.

Hermann adds the pajamas to the socks and underpants already packed.

„Here you go~!“ He offers the contraptions.

„Thank you.“

Father strides into the room, orders, „Bastien, go prepare tea for everyone.“

Bastien crosses his arms. „I'm helping Manny pack.“

„Go. Now.“

„But—“

„Why don't you see if Mrs Krüger has some cookies to go with our tea?“ suggests Hermann.

Bastien narrows his eyes, 'I see what you did there', but trudges out.

Father closes the door behind him.

Hermann stuffs his binders beneath his pajamas, grabs a handful of undershirts from the duvet—

„Hermann.“

—sets them on top and turns, bracing himself. „Yes, Father.“

„Have you reconsidered the offer from TU Berlin as I asked?“

„Yes, Father.“

„And?“

„I'm leaving for Manchester Thursday.“

„I see,“ frowns Father. „Since you insist on abandoning my protection, you should have this.“ He offers a slip of paper.

Hermann takes it, reads the foreign phone number written there. He looks back to Father with his eyebrow raised.

„Should you need immediate medical attention, use that.“

„Whose contact is this?“

„It is best not to ask such questions.“

Hermann frowns, re-reads the note. „These are Mother's people.“

Father grunts.

Hermann does. not. crumple. it. „Why should I trust them with my health now? They did nothing when I—“ Busies himself with clothes.

„They had a doctor to the house within the hour.“

„Oh.“

„He recommended against taking action before you finished growing for fear of damaging the growth plate.“

Hermann picks at a pill on a sock.

„These people are a minimal threat.“ Lowers his voice, „They saw the value in keeping you alive then and will continue to do so as long as you keep their—your—secret.“

Hermann's stomach drops. „They provide my medications?“

Father nods. „You can expect them—as well as supplies to dispose of ... **things** when you arrive in Manchester.“

Hermann swallows. „What—“ Swallows again. „What about my classmates? The people I meet? What will they do to them?“

„I don't know for certain, but it would be in their best interest to remain ignorant.“

„I-I understand.“

„Good,“ Father grunts. „The best way to keep others ignorant—protect them—is to avoid engaging with them.“

Hermann hangs his head, shifts his feet. „Yes, Father.“

„You must also remember that, while your Mother's people's interest is served by you remaining alive, not everyone feels similarly.“ Fixes Hermann with a look. „I cannot protect you, so you must protect yourself.“

„I understand.“ Hermann sets his teeth, puts his shoulders back. „I have an interest in remaining alive, as well.“

Father sniffs, turns, and leaves.

Hermann slumps, takes a deep, shaky breath.

Clinking and shuffling footsteps as Bastien returns with a tea tray.

„Your tea, sir,“ he intones, setting the tray next to the suitcase on the mattress. „Mrs Krüger says the cookies'll be ready in twenty-ish minutes.“

Hermann hums, accepts a cup.

„What was all that about?“

Hermann offers a watery smile. „Would you mind giving me a moment?“

Bastien's jaw tightens.

„It was only a normal Father Thing.“

Bastien eyes him, guarded. „Can I get you anything?“

„I wouldn't mind a a few cookies when they're ready.“

Bastien exhales, nods, and plods off.

Hermann sighs, rolls his shoulders, and tucks the slip of paper into the suitcase's interior pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Graham C9 9](https://www.flickr.com/photos/schnappi/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/schnappi/11011134233/)
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8343124) as a separate ficlet.


	3. En Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Karla pause on their journey from Berlin to Manchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 September 2005  
> Frankfurt am Main, Hesse, Germany

\- not 9¾, but ... (09/09/19, Sydney) -

Karla says—

Hermann starts.

—"You're going grey again."

"I'm fine."

Karla hands him a fancy cupcake, sits. "I'll go over the itinerary again."

"Karla—"

"Have you finished your lunch?"

"Yes."

"Mrs Krüger will be pleased." Shuffles papers. "Okay. Morning before: post boxes. Night before: ensure tickets are printed. Day of, eight in the morning: leave for the train with Hermann, Karla, and a suitcase each. Half past: get on train. Four transfers, arrive in Manchester after twenty-one-hundred, meet car, go to hotel. Day Two: meet the car from the university at ten because they keep pestering Father."

Hermann looks at all the strangers flowing past on their way to the gates, listens to the distant hum of the trains, picks at the cupcake wrapper.

"Manny."

Hermann jumps—

Cupcake soars.

—cringes at the sticky-sweet mess on the tile.

Karla digs a napkin from her paper sack, crouches to clean up the remains of the treat. "It's only a train ride: it'll be fine."

"It—it's not—" Hermann waves his hands. "It's **people**!"

Karla straightens, sighs. "Yes, dear, that's what travels by passenger train." Dumps the detritus in a bin. "You also just got off a train full of people."

"But—"

"Relax, Manny. It'll be fine." She sits, pats his knee.

"Easy for you to say," grumbles Hermann.

"You've been looking forward to this day for **years**. Now's not the time for cold feet."

Hermann chews his lip, hunches tighter around himself.

A tone from the loudspeaker.

They attend.

„„Attention in the station, please. TGV Ninety-five-fifty-two, service to Paris, will depart from Platform Nineteen in twenty minutes.““

"They're playing our song," drawls Karla, easing to her feet.

Hermann whines.

Karla tugs his arm.

„„Attention in the station, please. TGV Ninety-five-fifty-two, service to Paris, will depart from Platform Nineteen in twenty minutes.““

Hermann stands, checks his balance, rolls his shoulders.

Karla shoulders her rucksack, swings their trolley around.

Hermann swallows, inhales deeply.

"There you go. Want to ride?"

"I'm fine Karla, I'm not a child."

"There's no one to say no~"

"If you insist." Hermann tries his best to stifle a smile as he folds himself onto their suitcases, buuuuut his cheeks hurt so it's probably not working.

Karla's rucksack swings—

Hermann squawks.

—onto his lap. "You can hold my bag."

"Your motives weren't at all altruistic."

"Listen, kid, I'm doing the pushing here. The least you can do is make it easier by helping me take advantage of the reduced friction of wheels." Kicks off the brake.

"Very well, I'll do my best impression of a medium for kinetic energy."

"Ready?"

"As I'm going to be."

Karla starts off. "Think positive. Tell me at least **one** good thing about moving to England."

"Perhaps ...." Hermann ponders. "Perhaps Father will be happier now that I've finally left his house."

"The day Father's happy is the day I'll eat my hat."

"You don't wear hats."

"I will when I get to Montreal." Smugs, "It'll be a 'touque'."

Hermann rolls his eyes as they trundle toward Platform Nineteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Chris Betcher](https://www.flickr.com/photos/betchaboy/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/betchaboy/5837544058/)
> 
> This one benefited from some heavy editing by the amazing artificiallifecreator and was their idea as well.


	4. Welcome to Manchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Karla arrive to a warm welcome at the University of Manchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 September 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- very visible panty line (29/04/18, Vladivostok) -

\- GOTTLIEB -

reads the sign held by a tweedy, middle-aged man waiting in the hotel lobby when Karla, Hermann, and the porter with their suitcases emerge.

Karla marches them straight over, announces, "I'm Karla and he's Hermann Gottlieb."

"Wonderful!" The man tucks the sign under his arm. "Good morning, Ms Gottlieb—"

Karla bobs her head.

"—and I'm so pleased to finally meet you, young man! Doctor Don McGuire—"

Hermann starts.

"—high-energy physics." He offers Hermann his hand.

Hermann, heart stuttering, accepts a surprisingly enthusiastic grip. "It—" Clears his throat. "It is an honour to meet you, Doctor, sir. I can only hope to write something as insightful as your latest paper on the current state of neutrino detectors someday."

"You've read my paper?"

"I have read all your papers, sir."

"Of **course** he's read your paper," adds Karla—

Doctor McGuire blinks—realizes he still has Hermann's hand, drops it hastily. "Apologies, Mr Gottlieb."

—"He drinks astrophysics like water."

Doctor McGuire studies Hermann, murmurs, "They said you were a wunderkind, but ...." Shakes himself back into the moment. "Well, we're **so** very happy you've thrown in with us, Mr Gottlieb."

"I, uh, hope I live up to your expectations, s-sir."

"You will, you will!" Doctor McGuire shifts toward the door. "We should probably set out if we want to beat the worst of the crowds. I have a car for us. If you'll follow me ...."

They head outside and to the cab waiting on the forecourt.

Karla steers Doctor McGuire into the front seat with one of her Looks.

Beside her, Hermann sighs, but spends the surprisingly short drive chatting with Doctor McGuire about particle accelerators.

"Just here, please," says Doctor McGuire, and the cab pulls up near a pair of security guards with 'UoM CAMPUS' across their vests.

Hermann and Karla ease themselves out while Doctor McGuire pays the driver; Hermann shifts his sweaty grip on his cane.

The cabbie appears and unlocks the boot as Doctor McGuire joins them, greets Security, then, "Mr Gottlieb, Ms Gottlieb, these are our Heads of Security and Residence Patrol. They'll be helping us to your lodgings."

The security guards tilt their hats.

Karla says, "Pleased to meet you."

Hermann meeps.

"Apologies for the crowds," says Doctor McGuire. "Doctor Gottlieb was so vehemently against any interaction with the press that we thought the standard moving day would make for a lovely smokescreen."

"Thank you," says Karla.

"P-press?" squeaks Hermann.

"Mhm. Local outlets always cover the incoming cohort and, well, you're the star."

Hermann swallows.

Doctor McGuire smiles, consults a slip of paper from a pocket as the security people attend their bags. "We're headed this way." Gestures.

"We'll follow you."

"Of course." Doctor McGuire nods to the guards, then cuts a path along the pavement, tossing chatter over his shoulder as they navigate the crowds.

Hermann responds absently, but mostly tries not to flutter or melt under his armour of layers as he hobbles along.

Karla matches step, arms crossed and shoulders straight, watching everything with suspicious, narrowed eyes.

And then Doctor McGuire says, "Here we are!"

Another man in campus security livery props open the exterior door of this particular residence hall.

Doctor McGuire shows an ID and they're waved through.

An elevator waits almost immediately inside and Doctor McGuire directs them to the second floor. He stops barely three meters later, works a key in a lock, and swings open a door. "This would be your room."

"Thank you, sir," mumbles Hermann, wobbling by.

Smallish, neat, bright with light from two good-sized windows. A bed, desk, ergonomic chair, wardrobe, dresser, mirror, shelves. A door—

"The second door is your private washroom."

Hermann scratches his chest.

The guards set the luggage beside the bed, bob their heads, exit.

Doctor McGuire shuffles his feet. "Well, before this gets **too** awkward, I'll leave you two to get settled in." He offers—

Hermann takes his business card and the key to the room.

—smiles. "Drop me an email or by my office hours to talk physics—or anything—whenever you'd like."

"Th-thank you, sir. I may do that."

"Don't be shy about it, now. It's an absolute joy to talk to a student like you, Mr Gottlieb." Doctor McGuire smiles reassurance, tips an imaginary hat, and exits, leaving the door wide open.

Hermann looks to Karla.

"What?"

"Th-they-they sent the-the leading researcher on their physics faculty **to** **unlock** **my** **door**."

"You're basically a child prodigy, Manny. They want to impress you, so when you're famous someday you donate a lab or something." Karla heaves a suitcase onto the mattress with a huff. "Probably why they assigned you such a big room."

Hermann shakes his head, then motion outside the window catches his eye.

A large crowd of his fellow students(!) and their families schlepping suitcases and boxes along the paths.

""So **you're** the lucky duck who got the 'master suite'.""

Hermann controls a flutter, whirls. "E-excuse me?"

Karla attends the door with ... interest?

"Your room," explains the young South Asian man looking at Karla. "It's the biggest on the floor, it's a corner so you've got **two** windows, **and** an en suite bathroom." Sizes her up. "Who're you related to and what did you get on your exams?"

Karla sparkles, says, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

He grins. "Forgive the familiarity, Miss ...?"

"Karla," she purrs.

"Well, Miss Karla, I wanted to know if you needed help with your belongings. If you did—" Bows. "—I'm 'help'."

"Well, you could help me get this—" Nudges a bag with her foot. "—bruiser onto the bed."

"Sure thing."

The young man gets the suitcase up beside its fellow, then turns to her. "I'm Bakshish Singh, by the way."

"A pleasure."

Singh preens a bit.

Hermann ....

"Unfortunately, we're already done in here."

"What about the rest of your stuff?"

"That's the rest of it." Karla sighs.

"You're joking, yea? You don't even have sheets for the bed!"

"Oh, that. Those are coming later."

"Aha! You got a head start on your parents with—" He nods to Hermann. "—the rest of the help. Wise move, there."

"I'm actually moving **him** in."

"Really? You're kinda young for a first year."

Hermann looks at Karla.

"Boy genius and all that. Hermann, go put your toiletries away."

Hermann picks up his kit and slinks to the washroom.

""A freight handler's delivering the less essential essentials.""

""Not your parents?""

""Our father couldn't spare the time, so we're all on our own.""

""Really, now."" A pause. ""Would your father be interested in talking to my mother about letting kids spread their wings?""

Hermann gulps, fiddles with his facecloth.

""He's not much of a conversationalist,"" Karla drawls.

""'s worth a shot.""

Silence.

Hermann peers out.

Singh's smiling at Karla.

Karla's smiling back.

Hermann looks from one to the other, blinks rapidly.

""Bakshish! This box needs ye!"" yells a feminine voice.

Singh rolls his eyes, hollers, "In a moment, Sissy!" To Karla, sheepish, "Sorry. Duty calls."

Karla waves airily. "No need to apologize. Thanks for offering." Takes a step closer. "I don't suppose **you** could use a little help with that box?"

Singh grins. "The more the merrier."

"Karla—"

"Have you finished with your toiletries?"

"Yes."

"Then you can start on your suitcases. I'll just be a moment," she smiles.

"I promise to bring her back in one piece," adds Singh.

Hermann stifles a face-palm.

""Bakshish!""

"Coming, Sissy! Don't get your knickers in a twist!"

""My knickers're none a' your business!""

Hermann blushes to the tips of his ears, coughs over a laugh.

Singh sighs, beckons Karla. "Let's go before my baby sister blows a gasket."

Karla, smug, strolls to the door, passing a little too close to him on her way by.

"Hey," calls Singh.

Hermann attends.

"Welcome to Manchester~!"

Hermann mumbles something like 'thank you', sets to unzipping and opening the suitcase as Singh saunters off.

He works his way systematically through its contents, tucking everything away in its proper place, closes the last dresser drawer with a satisfying _thump_ , turns his attention back to the activity outside.

""I got his number~!""

"Is he your 'type'?" sighs Hermann without turning around.

The mattress creaks under Karla's weight.

""Well, he's **definitely** fit. Did you see his arms?""

"I didn't notice." Hermann pries himself away from the window, faces Karla.

" **Really** nice arms." She melts a little.

Hermann does not roll his eyes.

"As for his brain, he **does** attend the same university as my genius little brother, so he can't be **too** dumb."

Hermann face-palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Susy Morris](https://www.flickr.com/photos/chiotsrun/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/chiotsrun/4946627337/)
> 
> Bakshish Singh was a pleasant discovery and his existence solves a problem I've been having since I started imagining this story almost three years ago.


	5. Succor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann learns the university provides assistance for students with disabilities ... and resents it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 September 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Muggle, Kris' first student (07 Jun 2014) — Hasi -

Hermann slides into his desk chair, /tries to read syllabi, but gives in to staring out the window at pavements full of people.

His mobile chirps an alert.

He glances at the screen, sighs.

His gaze drifts—

Someone knocks at the door.

Hermann grumbles to his feet, limps over, takes a deep breath, straightens his jumper, opens up.

A dark-haired, dark-eyed young man waves, greets, "I'm Justin. DASS's assigned me as your Practical Support Assistant. May I—"

"I won't be needing your 'assistance'," growls Hermann, shutting—

Justin gestures for calm. "I'm not—think of me like a valet—"

—the door.

Another knock.

Hermann rolls his eyes, reconsiders.

Silence.

Hermann twitches open the door.

"Hi, again. All I do is work doors, carry bags—you know—the stuff that can be a pain when you've only got one free hand." Justin bobs his chin toward Hermann's cane. "Every student with less-than-perfect mobility can have someone like me around."

Hermann steps aside, tilts his head, 'come in'.

Justin hovers in the middle of the room until Hermann sits at his desk, then drops cross-legged to the floor.

"I don't recall requesting your services."

"Uh ...." Justin checks something on his mobile. "I think I was in the small print of your acceptance letter. The admins like to sneak things into that. The small print."

Hermann snorts in agreement.

Justin smiles. "So ... like I said, I'm here to make getting around easier for you. Off-campus, too, if you want."

"You're a combination service dog and pack mule, then."

"Pretty much."

"How'd you earn this 'honour'?"

"I'm on work study and there's enough overlap in our schedules the support folks thought I'd be a good fit for you."

Hermann's heart picks up speed. "You're in the astrophysics programme?"

"Plain physics for me—sorry—but I'll be close enough to at least meet you after every lecture and for meals. Live right down the hall, too."

"Ah."

Justin rubs the back of his neck. "Do you, um, want to stroll over to the building for your first lecture? So we can get a handle on the time we need tomorrow?"

"Fine." Hermann heaves himself to his feet. "Let me grab my jacket."

"No problem." Justin unfolds, ambles to the door. "I can hold your—"

Hermann passes over his cane, slides into his coat, reclaims it.

Justin opens the door, closes it after them; Hermann locks up and they set out.

"I plan to dismiss you as soon as it is practical to do so."

"Whatever floats your boat, mate." Justin shrugs, smiles over. "Just give me a good reference, ay?"

Hermann's lips twitch up in answer. "I can probably do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [bullcitydogs](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bullcitydogs/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bullcitydogs/5516043985/in/photolist-9pr9eP-9pu9h1-9dV7aN-9pu72W-9pr5wF-9dS3tT-9pr6Qp-9pu7vA-9praGD-9dS5bM-9dS7HZ-9pu6aW-9puaKs-9pr7ir-9pube7-9pu9Q1-9dS4S2-9dS4vc-9dV9rS-9dS6BF-9dS7nH-9pr7LH-9dVaSu-9dV88A-9dS3N4-63kzNY-63kzP5-9dRZjV-9dV4VN-8tfhSS-8tfanU-9dV3kE-9dS1g6-9dS1Rx-8tfgZA-9dV6Tq-9dS2xv-9dV5vS-8tceuH-9dV3DQ-8tccBa-9dV43A-9dV4DA-8tffAw-9dV6b9-8tfdK9)
> 
> University of Manchester's Disability Advisory and Support Services does really employ students like Justin to help students like Hermann, as well as impressive array of other assistance to students with physical, learning, mobility, and other disabilities that might interfere with their education.


	6. Constants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's first day in a classroom, his first day at university, is by turns nerve-racking, exciting, embarrassing, painful, and thrilling. It's a packed hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 September 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Dr. Gottlieb's blackboard, Anchorage — December 2017 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann limps into the classroom for his first class on his first morning of uni.

Neat rows of desks, hooks on their sides for bags, all empty.

Hermann chooses one in the front rank to the left of center with a good view and a straight path to the door, slides in, hangs his backpack, jams his cane between it and the side of the desk so it doesn't fall. He retrieves three razor-sharp pencils and the notebook he'd designated and lays them out in front of him.

Footsteps and quiet chatter as his classmates(!) file in, most singly and some in small knots.

Hermann doodles a Penrose triangle in a margin, checks out the other students with his peripheral vision.

A short, bulky youth with dark hair and a scowl.

A girl, plain, who carries herself with great confidence.

An average-looking boy fighting with an oversize backpack.

A handsome young man, nearly as thin as Hermann with light, bright eyes.

Hermann's heart flutters. He forces his eyes back to his drawing.

Sharp footsteps and a heavy _thump_.

Hermann looks up.

A middle-aged man in a jacket, tie, and stylish glasses stands behind the front table, snaps open an organizer. "I'm Doctor Munro. If you're not here for my class, get out."

Nervous titters.

Munro clears his throat.

Silence.

"When I call your name, answer 'here'." Munro looks at his book. "Bolton."

Northern, ""Here.""

"Dawson."

Northern, ""Here.""

"Fisher."

Midlands, ""Here.""

"Foster."

Estuary, ""Here.""

"Gottlieb."

"Here, sir."

A wave of snickers flows through the class and a "What **is** that accent?"

Hermann curls tighter around himself.

Doctor Munro frowns.

Silence.

"Hammond."

Geordie, ""Here.""

"Lyons."

Estuary, ""Here, sir.""

"McDonald."

Estuary, ""Here.""

"Preston."

Silence.

" **Preston.** "

More silence.

Munro jabs a note.

"Reeves."

Northern, ""Here.""

"Reid."

Scottish, ""Present!""

Snickers trip around the room.

Hermann cringes in sympathy.

Doctor Munro clears his throat and someone—maybe Reid—scoffs loudly.

Hermann allows himself a small smile, idly wondering which of his classmates is Reid.

"Sheppard."

West Country, ""Here, sir.""

"Talbot."

Northern, ""Here.""

Munro scans the room. "You. Who're you?"

Welsh, ""Rao, sir. I transferred in yesterday.""

Munro _hmph_ s, scribbles in his book. "Any other latecomers?"

Silence.

"Good. You've certainly read the syllabus and know how this course will be conducted." The barest pause. "Let's begin." Munro seizes a piece of chalk and begins to cover the blackboard with equations Hermann knows like the tendons in the back of his hand.

Still, he makes careful notes.

So it goes for nearly the entire period.

And then, on the day's final formula, Munro makes a mistake.

Hermann blinks at the incorrect constant.

Munro forges on.

Hermann squints.

Munro finishes the next step with a wrong result.

The mistake glares at Hermann.

Hermann chews his lip.

Munro continues, oblivious.

The mistake screams.

Hermann takes a deep breath, says, "Excuse me, sir? Doctor Munro?"

The man turns, frowning.

"I think you meant to use the other constant in step three, sir."

Munro turns back to the board.

An eternal pause.

Hermann holds his breath.

Munro picks up an eraser, very deliberately rubs out the incorrect number and replaces it with the proper one—

Hermann exhales, shoulders slumping.

—then viciously wipes the rest of the board clean. Without turning around, he growls, "Thank you, Mr Gottlieb," sounding very much like Father when Hermann's broken one of his rules.

Hermann's heart sinks and he swallows.

Munro spins back, glares directly at Hermann. "Ignore today's assignment on your syllabus. Instead, complete all of the exercises for chapter one **and** finish the problem currently on the board. All of you."

Groans fill the air and angry stares bore into Hermann's back and, for once, he's glad of the armour—weak as it is—his layers and wings provide.

"Dismissed."

Feet shuffle, bags rustle, voices grumble.

Hermann tucks away his pencils and notes, works his cane free.

Something solid smashes into his back, grinding the upper bone of his wing into his shoulder.

Hermann flinches away, whimpering.

The scowling classmate sneers at him, "It's your fault we have extra work now, smartass. You need to learn to watch your mouth."

Hermann stares at fake wood grain, blinking away the tears pricking his eyes.

Foster (by his voice) sniffs, stomps toward the door.

Hermann takes a deep breath, gathers up his things, pushes gingerly to his feet.

His tormentor blocks the door, talking to ... talking to the boy with bright eyes.

Who's smirking down at him, eyes alight, speaking with Reid's accent.

Foster turns a rather unhealthy-looking dark shade.

Reid grins, whacks him on the back, glances over—

Hermann's heart flips.

—sorta smiles, then strolls out.

Foster shtumps after him.

Hermann wills his wings still and his heart back to its regular rhythm and, with another deep breath, packs his bag, and hobbles to meet Justin for the walk to his next lecture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Marvin (PA)](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mscolly/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mscolly/145052885/)
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7642861) as a separate ficlet and it's still inspired by a piece by the wonderful [curiumKingyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/profile)
> 
> I'm gonna take this moment to explain how I pick names for what are essentially NPCs in my stories. Generally, I pick them from lists of most common given names and surnames for the character's country/region of origin. To make sure there are a few rarer names in the mix, I use the same lists and the random.org random number generator to select something from deeper in the list. Dr. Munro and all of Hermann's classmates (except Reid) had their names selected this way. Reid got his name when I picked it from a list of most common surnames in Scotland because I liked it. XD


	7. Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann is very suspicious of his classmate's motives in talking to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26 October 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- solar system in a box (12/10/12, Sydney) — Jackson J -

""Hey! Gottlieb! Wait up!""

Hermann stumbles to a standstill, saves himself from falling by shifting most of his weight onto his cane. Underneath his layers, his wings twitch and Hermann rolls his shoulders to disguise the motion.

""Thanks!"" calls Reid.

Hermann turns, grumbles, "What do you want?"

Reid bounds over, grinning. "You **do** know who I am! Rhys owes me five pounds. Lunch's on me!"

Hermann raises his defenses. "Get to your point before we're both late for our next class," he growls.

"We can talk on the way." Reid matches Hermann's pace along the hall to the classroom. "Which's sorta the problem." He fluffs his hair. "I'm wondering if you'll help me study. Solar dynamics are kicking my ass and you've got the best marks."

Hermann lets suspicion drip from his voice. "Yours are second-best."

"I know," says Reid through an enormous grin. "That's why I want to study with you. I need to learn all your tricks."

"There aren't any tricks," Hermann sniffs. "I work hard."

"Then we can work hard together."

Hermann stops suddenly.

Reid trips over his own feet and nearly goes down.

"If this is some sort of dare or a pity thing, you can kindly fuck off right now. I don't have time for this," Hermann snaps.

Reid winces and the light in his eyes dims a fraction. "No! I mean—I just want to study with you. Honest. Cross my heart." He makes the matching gesture.

Hermann shifts his grips on his cane, chews his lip. "Fine," he finally says. "We'll talk about times and places after the lecture."

" **Brilliant!** " Reid's entire being lights up. "Thanks, mate." He pats—

Hermann twists away, propels himself to a seat in the middle of the classroom, and drops himself into it.

The lecture nearly flies by.

"Let's talk about studying over lunch," says Reid from Hermann's elbow.

Hermann jumps, resumes stuffing his books and notes into his rucksack.

"I was serious before about it being my treat. I want to introduce you to my favourite curry."

Hermann stares.

"You **have** to be hungry by now."

Hermann sniffs, checks his binding with a quick brush against his chest, and tilts his head, 'go ahead', to Reid.

Reid glows and sets off at a pace Hermann can easily match.

On the short walk through the crisp late autumn air, Hermann focuses on his breathing, sparing as much attention as is left to responding properly to Reid's questions around the fear squeezing his chest.

Soon they reach a busy street lined its entire length with curry and kebab shops.

"They call it the 'Curry Mile'."

"I can see why."

Reid laughs, bows Hermann into a narrow storefront. "This's the one." He steers Hermann to a small table near the window, even pulling out a chair for him.

Hermann frowns, but sits.

"What would you like?"

"Saag paneer, please."

"Coming right up~!"

Reid strolls to the counter to place the order.

Hermann relaxes, somewhat relieved to find the location Reid chose shields his bad leg from other patrons walking past.

His mobile chimes—

Hermann digs it from his bag.

 **justin_time:** We meeting for supper?

 **h_gottlieb:** I'll be fine this evening, thank you.

 **h_gottlieb:** I think I will try the next few days on my own, as well.

 **justin_time:** Cool beans. You know how to reach me!

Hermann tucks his mobile away.

Reid returns with two heaping plates of heavenly-smelling food and slides in across the table.

They rehash the morning's lectures around bits of saag paneer and chicken vindaloo and Hermann gradually gives in to his enthusiasm for the topic of stellar evolution, which Reid appears to share.

Eventually the pair pause to catch their breath.

Reid leans back in his chair. "You know, you sound like a proper Mancunian now, but you didn't at the start of the term. What was that accent?"

"Bavarian, with a touch of Berliner."

"German? I suppose I should've guessed with a name like yours."

Hermann snorts.

"So what's a German doing in Manchester?"

"You're a Scotsman," Hermann counters. "What're **you** doing here?"

Reid laughs—

Hermann heart turns a little flip.

"I'm here for the Lovell. I can't **wait** to get my hands on it." Reid grimaces. "I'm making myself an indentured servant of Lord Academia for a couple of days with an old telescope. I'm a complete **idiot**." He shakes his head and grins. "Your turn, Gottlieb."

"The physics and astronomy program attracted me. There aren't many like it in Europe." Hermann shrugs. "I also receive a full scholarship to attend."

"I **knew** I picked the right guy to tutor me! You have to be the **only** one in our year in the program on full scholarship!"

Hermann lowers his eyes and picks at his food.

"Humble. I like that." Reid takes a bite of vindaloo for emphasis.

A mobile chimes.

Reid fumbles in his pocket, extracts the thing. "Fuck. I need to run to make my stupid literature class," he whines.

Hermann sighs.

Reid looks at his backpack, then his food, then Hermann. "Fuck that. I'll get the notes from Rhys. I'm not cutting out early now that I've got you." He picks up his fork.

"Reid, what are you doing? You need to get to class," hisses Hermann.

"It'll be fine. Getting to know you is more fun." Reid drops his eyes, then looks up through his lashes. "This's already the best afternoon I've had since I got to this town. I'm **kicking** myself for not dragging you out earlier."

"Wh—" Hermann swallows. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said." Fluffs his hair. "And I'll get the notes from my roommate later. You don't have an afternoon lecture, do you?"

Hermann shakes his head.

"Great! You were saying something about shell helium flashes?"

Their meals are long gone and the restaurant owner has been giving them the evil eye for a while when they pack up their things and set out for campus.

Hermann and Reid debate the merits of various theories of planet formation the entirety of the walk to Reid's residence.

"Where've you been, Edan?" drawls a bored voice with a Welsh tilt. "You missed class and old Cooper actually noticed. You'll catch hell on Friday."

Reid turns to Hermann. "That's my useless roommate, Rhys." Continues in a stage whisper, "He's a **literature** major."

The curly-haired boy lounging on the upper bunk sniffs and gives Reid a two-finger salute.

"The lovely lady wasting her time with him is Vigsai. If she likes you, she'll let you call her 'Iggy'."

A dark-skinned girl sitting cross-legged next to Rhys offers a friendly wave and a wide smile.

"She's at least got a practical major. Biology. Vigsai and Rhys, meet Hermann Gottlieb."

"This the astronomy genius you've been talking about all term?" Rhys asks without looking up from his textbook.

The back of Reid's neck darkens—a blush?

"Yea, finally worked up the nerve to talk to him," he says as he ruffles his own hair. He turns to Hermann, sheepish. "You're intimidating as hell. Everyone in the program's been **terrified** of you since you took on Munro the first day. Legend is, no one does that and lasts the **week**."

Hermann blushes to the tips of his ears and his head fills with static.

"What do you think, Gottlieb?" says Reid.

Hermann wrenches himself back into the flow of conversation, joining in shyly.

Reid (not Edan, not yet), Rhys, and Vigsai seem nice enough, but they're strangers and strangers make him nervous and, as time goes on, he catches himself rolling his shoulders to shift his aching, tightly-bound wings. He waits for a pause in the talk and says, "This has been pleasant, but I need to get back to my room and study."

"O-oh, of course. Sorry to keep you!" Reid hops up, opens the door.

"'bye, Gottlieb!"

"Goodbye, Rhys, Vigsai," he replies.

Hermann sets out, Reid at his heels to the door.

"See you tomorrow, Gottlieb," he says. With bright eyes and a note of hope: "Maybe we can meet for lunch after Smith's class?"

"Maybe," Hermann answers noncommittally. "Goodnight, Reid."

"Goodnight." Hermann plods to his own building, manages the locks and doors, and seals himself inside his room. He's out of his coat, jumper, shirt, undershirt, and binding in a flash. With a sigh, he stretches his wings their full reach, then flutters some more of the soreness out of them. He scoops up a pair of downy feathers from the floor, shuffles to the washroom, and stuffs them into the biohazard container.

He wets a washcloth, scrubs his face.

Hermann looks at his reflection in the mirror, mumbles, "What the hell was Reid thinking?" Sighs. "What the hell am **I** thinking?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [abrinsky ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/abrinsky/)[[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/abrinsky/994290681/).
> 
> I'll admit it up front: Edan Reid is one of my favorite OCs. So it's been a lot of fun revisiting these stories and sprucing them up a bit. Two years seems to have made Edan a little kinder, a little more talkative, a little more perceptive, and more than a little more flail-y. I'm hoping everyone loves him as much as I do.
> 
> EDIT (11/6/16): Right, so, it turns out European schools don't follow the same starting and ending date conventions as those in the USA—or even each other. So, with help from artificiallifecreator, I've been overhauling "Celestial Mechanics" to take these dates into account. It means some stuff is going to be completely re-written, moved around in time, and (rarely) left just as is.
> 
> I'm also pulling in the satellite fics to make it easier for everyone to get all of the background on this tale.


	8. New Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's settled routine as a student is disturbed by Reid's **insistence** on trying to befriend him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 October 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Plumsauce takes a bath (14/03/21, Hong Kong) -

Nearby chirping—greenfinch and blackbird.

Hermann fumbles his mobile from beside his pillow without lifting his head, thumbs off the squawking, groans.

Nearby chirping—robin and starling.

"Dammit," he grumbles, turning off the alarm, pushes up on his elbows, wings beating through wide, lazy strokes.

The air tickles the vanes, but the follicles itch.

"Bloody fuckin' moult."

He shoves himself over to sitting, eases his feet to the floor, pushes off, carefully tests his weight on his knee.

It holds well enough that he flexes his wings and shuffles to the washroom cane-free.

He reaches into the shower, twists the water all the way to hot, then strips off his pajama bottoms and underwear, relieves himself, and steps into the steam-filled shower.

He soaps up all the bits he can reach, avoiding his feathers as much as possible—no time to deal with those today, much as they could use it—sluices off. Next, he lathers his hair, rinses it. He turns off the water with a sigh, drags himself out onto the mat.

The comparatively chill air has him shivering, so he grabs his towel and dries himself thoroughly, shaking condensation—and loose feathers, dammit—from his wings as he goes.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he runs his fingers through his hair, flosses and brushes his teeth. Brings out the razor, gives his chin a quick once-over. Satisfied, he picks his way to the dresser.

He digs out a full ensemble, drops the towel on the desk chair, armours up with pants, trousers, binder as tightly fastened as possible, t-shirt, button-up shirt, and jumper. Drapes the towel over his shoulder.

Another deep sigh and he crouches, gathers up shed feathers, grumps back along the trail of them to the washroom—even the sopping ones on the shower tiles, stuffs the handful into the biohazard container hidden in a storage box on the shelf, just as Father ordered.

A last check of his hair in the mirror, grimaces, pokes at the stupid bloody cowlick to no avail.

He rolls his shoulders, limps to the desk on his stiffening knee, tugs his rucksack to the edge, inspects its contents.

Everything for the first part of the day's there, so he hobbles across to the door, drops it while he climbs into his coat. He settles the bag over his shoulders, picks up his cane, and heads out, double-checking the door is locked behind him.

It's a mercifully brief, head-down shamble to the dining hall.

"Good—"

Hermann startles.

"—morning~!" sings Reid, materializing beside him. "You headed to breakfast?"

Hermann forces his shoulders down. "For what other reason would I be here?"

Reid shrugs. "Some people work better with kitchen clatter?"

Hermann sniffs, pushes by and into the serving area, seizes a tray.

"Can I help?"

"I can handle it."

"But would you **like** help?"

"No." Hermann loads up with a banana and an orange, stomps over to the pot of oatmeal.

"Isn't it normal for, uh, students with mobility—"

"I dismissed my 'helper' after the first week," snaps Hermann. "I am **more** than capable of taking care of myself." Slams a bowl on his tray, aggressively scoops oatmeal.

Reid gestures for calm. "O-of course. I didn't—" Runs a hand through already mussed hair—

Hermann idly wonders (again) what colour that hair is, silently chastises himself.

—and ducks his head. "I'm pretty sure Rhys and Iggy already have a table claimed and we'd love it if you'd join us."

"I'll think about it."

Reid glows. "Thanks for that, mate." He skips off to the hot food line.

Hermann shakes his head, shuffles to the coffee station, fills a mug and leaves it black. He tests his hold on the heavy tray, heads to the seating area.

A hand waves above a table a short distance away, Reid grinning beneath it.

Hermann's heart does a traitorous little flip, so he puts on a mild frown, plods over, and slides into the nearest empty place, next to Reid.

Dammit.

"Good morning! Again!"

"'mornin'," greets Vigsai.

Rhys waves.

"Good morning," says Hermann, dropping his rucksack between his feet.

"You ready for Munro's quiz today?"

Hermann shrugs, picks up his spoon and stirs his oatmeal.

"It shouldn't be **too** bad. I mean, this unit seems pretty straightforward."

Hermann grunts around a mouthful, queues up another.

"Let the poor bloke eat, Gingersnap," chides Rhys. "It looks like he needs it."

"Almost as much as you do," adds Vigsai.

Reid gestures with his toast. "I can't gain weight, no matter how much I eat. Ask my mum." Punctuates with a bite.

"I'm, ah, the same way," murmurs Hermann.

Reid's happy glow increases by an order of magnitude.

Hermann bends, fishes about in his rucksack, tries to ignore the way his ears seem to be on fire, comes back up with his pill organizer. He tips the morning's into his hand, swallows them with a gulp of coffee.

In his peripheral vision, Reid watches carefully.

Hermann shoots him a look.

Reid immediately finds his breakfast **fascinating**.

Hermann feels ... guilty, covers it with more coffee and "I suspect today's quiz will be a relatively easy one. You're right about the latest material."

"So I'm not just overconfident."

"Not if your marks are as high as they are in cosmology."

"Well ... they're not **quite** as high. Maths're kinda my weak spot."

"Oh good, he's talking science—oi!"

Vigsai smiles, shifts as she retracts her foot.

"You've made a poor choice of programme if you struggle with maths."

Reid dims, mumbles, "I muddle through a-and it's worth all the work to get a better look at the stars, yea?"

The guilt returns.

Hermann offers a weak smile. "The stars are worth nearly anything."

" **Finally** ," smiles Reid, "someone who **understands**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Andy Purviance](https://www.flickr.com/photos/otterlove/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/otterlove/4585166030/)
> 
> Yup, Hermann made good on the promise he made in Chapter 5 to fire Justin the Personal Support Assistant. Don't worry for Justin: the university found him another job and Hermann provided a glowing reference.


	9. Seating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid plans ahead for Hermann's comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29 October 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- ready to pick! (25/06/10, Koffiefontein) -

Edan stops short, rocks back a step, grinning as he takes in the contents of the shop window. "Hold up a moment!"

"We'll miss the bus, Gingersnap," sighs Rhys.

"We'll get the next one. C'mon."

"I'll wait here."

Edan shrugs, ducks into the shop.

A few quid later, Edan rejoins Rhys on the pavement clutching a large, _shush_ ing thing to his chest. "Tahdah~!"

"It's a beanbag."

"Indeed~!"

Rhys hunches his shoulders, trudges for the bus stop. "The Hell'd you buy a beanbag?"

"We need another seat." Edan matches step, sticking close.

"And you're too cheap to buy an actual chair."

"And I'm too **poor** to buy an actual chair. There's a very important difference."

"Whatever you say." Side-eyes Edan. "Why an orange one?"

"The rest were boring."

A few quiet paces.

"You're a strange one, even for a Scot."

"Pfft! I'm **eccentric**."

"'Eccentric' is for thems who're posh. You only qualify for 'weird'."

"Then I'll be weird and **comfy**."

Rhys stops at the bus shelter, yoinks Edan to a halt by his collar.

Edan coughs, tugs his jacket back where it belongs, gets a fresh grip on his prize, and rocks on his heels.

"Mad," drawls Rhys.

"Happy~!"

Rhys rolls his eyes. "Why do we need another seat anyway?"

"So Hermann can use one of the desk chairs."

"Of course. Why didn't I realize sooner?"

"Wha?"

"You'd only debase yourself like this for your little German."

Edan hides his face in the cushion. "He's not **my** anything."

""Yet, you hope.""

Edan lets himself sink in deeper.

""You should, you know, actually **tell** him you're heels over head for him.""

"I don't wanna scare him off."

""You'd rather just confuse and leave him hanging, then.""

Edan whines.

""You can make up your mind to saddle yourself with a bloody ugly orange beanbag, but you can't breathe a word to the bloke you're mooning over.""

"'s'not ugly."

""Missing the point, Gingersnap.""

Edan drags his head up, mumbles, "I don't want to scare him off."

The rumble of a big engine comes closer.

"Well, you do have a more immediate concern."

"What would that be?"

"How you're going to get that atrocious thing onto the bus."

Edan blinks at his armful of rustling thing. " **Shit.** "

"It's a pleasant day for a stroll, ay, Gingersnap?"

"Get fucked, Swansea."

"Since I'll have the room to myself for a bit, I may do just that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Kenneth Spencer](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kendo26/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kendo26/4311449022/).
> 
> Filling in a gap opened waaaaaay in the future: namely, why the heck does Edan own a beanbag chair?


	10. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann finds himself persuaded to be on a first-name basis with Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 November 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Coots at Lough Allen, 5 August 2022 — Ruby Maher -

Doctor Jones finishes the day's lecture; everyone in the room exhales and stuffs their supplies into their bags.

Hermann does, too.

Justin greets, "Hey."

"Good afternoon." Hermann grabs his cane.

"Since we're heading the same way, figured I'd just check in."

"Thank you." Where is his bag—

Reid's snagged it and slings it over his own shoulder.

Hermann pointedly turns back to Justin. "Thank you very much for your dedication; I will no longer be needing your services."

"Awesome, mate. Send me a reference letter and I'll be out of your hair for good. I can even send you a template if you'd like."

"That's would be wonderful, thank you."

"Sounds good. See you around!"

"Likewise."

Justin departs.

"Should I be jealous?" asks Reid.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nevermind~!" Hefts Hermann's rucksack—

"Give me that!" he hisses.

"It's no problem. I'll carry it for you," says Reid, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Reid, give it back."

"I **said** I'll carry it for you. C'mon, we'll be late if you keep arguing."

"Reid!"

"You'll have to wrestle it away from me if you want it that bad."

"Edan!"

"Hah! You **finally** used my name! Here's your books." Offers the bag. "Let's move!"

Hermann scowls as he seizes it and shuffles to catch up with Edan.

"Just so you know, I'm going to do that every time you call me 'Reid' from now on. We're **friends**. You can stop being formal, Gottlieb. And you can give me permission to use your first name whenever you're ready." His eyes twinkle.

Hermann can't help but smile back. "Okay, Edan. You can call me 'Hermann'."

Edan grins like it's his birthday, falls into step with Hermann, then gets the door.

"Thank you." Hermann steps outside.

Edan jogs a few steps. "After this, you want to join me and Iggy for dinner?"

Hermann rolls his eyes. "I've eaten at least one meal with you for the last six days. Why should today be different?"

"I dunno ... you could have a date?"

Hermann scoffs.

"Someone waiting for you back home?"

"No." Considers. "I suppose my younger brother might miss me."

"You've got a brother?"

"Two, actually, and an older sister, too."

"Wow. Big family."

Hermann shrugs.

"I've only got Fenella—my sister. And my parents, of course."

"Of course," mumbles Hermann.

"Not you?"

"My mother's dead and my father's rarely home." Takes a deep breath. "My oldest brother's always done most of the parenting."

"Oh. Umm ...." Edan runs a hand through his hair. "I can sorta, **kinda** relate. I mean, Fen-fen was pretty much all I had 'til I got to school. My dad works offshore and my mum buggered off 'bout the time I started walking."

"I'm sorry."

Edan waves it off. "It was rough for a bit, sure, but since Dad married Dona everything's been great."

Hermann grunts.

Edan opens the door of their destination building. "I was really worried about her at first, 'cause she seemed **really** conservative and I'm **really** gay."

A traitorous stutter from Hermann's heart as they trudge to the classroom.

"But, turns out, I had nothing to worry about." Edan chuckles. "She's almost as protective of me as Fen-fen."

Hermann allows himself a small smile. "That sounds a bit like my brothers and I."

Edan grins and bows Hermann into the room. "It's good to know you're not alone, yea?"

"I suppose so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [welshmackem](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mervtheswerve/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mervtheswerve/6102374351/).
> 
> I love Edan's efficiency at finding the right button to push to get what he wants from Hermann _and_ that he uses the skill for something as harmless as getting Hermann to use his given name. And poor Hermann! He wants to trust _so badly_ , but he's just terrified it's going to come back and bite him.


	11. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and his new friends discuss labels and celebrity crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 November 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- thanks, Chuck ... (20/01/22, Sydney) -

Hermann clicks 'send' on Justin's letter of recommendation, side-eyes his literature text. He groans, bonks his head against his desk, stays there, sighs, "Why are these **stu** -pid bloody general requirements required? I have to read one more **sentence** of Joyce and I'll—"

A (blessed) knock at the door.

Hermann flings himself across the room, whips it open.

Edan and Vigsai beam and glower, respectively, from the hallway.

"We come, humbly seeking sanctuary from the harsh world outside," intones Edan.

Hermann chuckles, bow them in. "May I humbly inquire as to why you have sought refuge in my humble abode?"

"It's nicer than either of ours?"

"Actually, Gingersnap forgot his key and Rhys is at his evening seminar."

They dump their bags.

"And we're **not** going to her room."

Hermann raises an eyebrow as he reclaims his seat.

Vigsai makes a face, plops on the floor with her back against the bed. "It's Poppy's night in."

"Which means she's having very enthusiastic, noisy sex with the flavour of the week." Edan hops onto Hermann's bed, makes himself comfortable.

Hermann feels his face get hot. "So, uh—" Clears his throat. "Why were you two out wandering campus, then?"

"Coming back from our weekly meeting of Club Rainbow."

"My first and **last** meeting of Club Rainbow." Vigsai sniffs. "They can suck my dick for all I care."

Edan frowns. "But you don't have a dick."

"That's awfully presumptuous of you, Gingersnap, assuming you know what's in my trousers. Besides, I happen to have a couple dicks in my closet that get fairly regular use."

Edan ... shutters. "That is way more information about someone I don't plan on sleeping with than I ever wanted to know."

"Umm, pardon my ignorance, but—"

"Club Rainbow's one of the organizations **supposedly** for queer folks to get together and be safe and accepted."

"They were total dickbags to her, so I might leave, too."

"Oh?"

"Said I was 'the wrong kind of queer'. 'parently being a bisexual is too straight for that lot, 'specially when I'm dating a bloke."

Hermann blinks. "You like women, too?"

"I like women and girls and ladies, and I've dated **plenty** of them, too."

"So Rhys is ...?"

"The second of two boytoys." Flips her hair. "My standards for men trend rather high."

"Never would've guessed with him."

"Can it, Gingersnap."

Hermann shifts his chair. "So, there's a label for that? Bisexual?"

"There's a label for **everything**. People **love** labels."

"'specially biologists," teases Edan.

Vigsai rolls her eyes.

"Everyone already knows **my** label, but what about yours, Hermann?" Lounges. "You want to join Club Categorized?"

"That's **awful** , Gingersnap."

"You laughed a little!"

"At **you** , not the 'joke'."

Edan huffs.

Hermann rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I qualify as bisexual, then." Swallows. "I've had ... crushes." Fiddles with the hair at his nape. "Guys and girls."

Vigsai cocks her head. "Thought you said you didn't get out much?"

"Uh ... my older siblings' friends, folks I saw when I was out and about town, a few more here ...."

"You do the standard celebrity crush thing, too?" Edan fluffs his hair. "I had the **hugest** thing for David Beckham."

Vigsai twists around. "You're joking."

"Uh, no—"

"Mine was Posh Spice."

They burst out laughing.

"I guess our friendship was Meant To Be," Edan snickers.

"Guess so."

Edan wipes his eyes. "Yours, Hermann?"

"I suppose it would've been Natalie Portman."

"Oo! She's soooooo pretty!"

Hermann and Vigsai sigh wistfully.

Edan rolls his eyes.

Hermann shakes himself out of it first, asks, "What about Rhys?"

Edan waves airily. "He's the token straight fella we keep around to throw people off."

Hermann looks to Vigsai.

She shrugs. "He's kinda good-looking? Funny, too?"

Edan wrinkles his nose. "The funny's alright, but he's not my type."

"Not mine, either," adds Hermann.

"Well, good. 'coz straight? Taken?"

"Yep! He's all yours, Iggy!"

Vigsai's eyes get a mischievous gleam. "Now we just need to find someones for you two."

Hermann ducks his head, but not before he sees Edan do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Bryan Kennedy](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bryankennedy/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bryankennedy/715890075/).
> 
> A little something cobbled together in a bit of a hurry to plug a plot hole artificiallifecreator spotted when doing the beta thing on a later chapter in production.
> 
> Vigsai's experience echoes that of two college friends of mine who were told, effectively, they weren't welcome at the Asian students' organization because they 'were the wrong kind of Asian'. They are Nepali (born in Kathmandu, even!) and Filipino. Apparently, the 'right' kind of Asian meant Chinese, Japanese, or Korean.
> 
> FYI, had Hermann been forced to cite a second celebrity crush, he would've named John Barrowman. XD


	12. Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and friends pose for a group photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 November 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Run! Government peeps! #coryrossishere // Coming from the daughter of a spy and a fighter pilot .... – 7. (2011 June 12, London-ish) -

Vigsai herds them outside; Rhys grumbling, Edan laughing, Hermann fighting with his heavy coat.

"I don't see what the bloody rush is."

"It's the light!"

"And your brother needs to get to his shift, yea?" adds Edan.

"Right." Vigsai bounds down the dorm's steps. "Aakash!"

"Iggy!" cheers the young man who sweeps her up in a hug. "It's great to see you!"

"It's only been a **week**."

"Too long to go without seeing my baby sister."

"Aww ... what a touching family reunion," drawls Rhys.

Edan jabs an elbow into his ribs.

Rhys glowers while Edan tries to look innocent and Vigsai tries to ignore them both.

"Aakash, this's Hermann."

"A recent addition to our menagerie."

" **Rhys!** "

Aakash bows. "Pleased to meet you, Hermann."

"The same, Mr Singh."

Aakash laughs. "I'm not 'Mr Singh', not yet."

"You'll be 'Doctor Singh' first, right?"

His eyes gleam. "That's my hope."

A chilly wind cuts across the lawn and right through Hermann's coat.

He shivers.

Edan looks over, concerned. "Are you getting cold?"

"I'm fine." Hermann huddles deeper into the wool.

"Yea, that looks totally 'fine'."

Aakash fiddles with what looks like a fancy digital camera.

"Take the picture already!" wails Vigsai.

"Art takes time, Sissy," says Aakash.

"We're not looking for art here," Rhys growls, "just a bleeding snapshot. So, snap already!"

Edan elbows him in the ribs.

"Do that again and I'll break you in half, Gingersnap."

"Not if I outrun you"

"Okay, I've got it now. Everybody squish closer together."

They do.

Aakash presses the shutter, checks the preview screen. "One more for insurance. Say 'vitreous humour'!"

"Cheeeeeeese!"

"Cheeky kids," snickers Aakash.

"Yep! And I'm going to act like it long as I can," declares Edan.

Vigsai, Rhys, and Aakash roll their eyes; Hermann sighs.

"Right. Who's ready for dinner?"

"Do you do anything **but** eat, Swansea?"

"Yea," smirks Rhys. "Your sister."

Aakash grimaces, Vigsai elbows Rhys' ribs, Edan guffaws, and Hermann laughs into his hand.

"Oh yea, Aakash—Hermann's sister has Bags' **number**."

Hermann cringes, "Well—"

"Oh my **god** ," Aakash rolls his eyes. "Not **another** one."

"I **know**!—"

"Maybe I should start going to the gym—"

"Not you, too! Why'd you want a date with someone just after your muscles?"

" **A** date as a beefcake is better than no date as a skinny nerd!"

Edan ruffles. "What's wrong with skinny nerds? They're **adorable**."

"Some folks like their dates more substantial. Not you, though, a— **OW!** " Rhys rubs the spot Edan punched.

Aakash grunts appreciatively. "You throw a decent punch for a skinny nerd."

Edan preens. "I'm from Glasgow. You don't live long if you can't."

"What does that mean?"

"Storytime~!"

Rhys rolls his eyes.

"We've got a vampire which lives a couple of streets over. 's got **steel** **teeth**."

"Huh. Unusual but—"

"He's **got** 'em because the locals kicked in his original set when he attacked the wrong bloke."

Everyone blinks at him.

Edan crosses his arms and rocks on his heels.

"That is one fucked up legend," says Rhys.

"That's bloody **Glasgow**."

Everyone blinks some more.

"Well, now we know where to recruit Slayers," says Aakash.

"Just what the world needs: a bunch of armed Scotspeople running about in the dark."

"Armed Scots being witty and looking **fabulous** ," amends Edan.

"It'll take more than a stake and a script to make **you** fabulous, Gingersnap."

Edan scoffs. "I'm a gay man: we're automatically fabulous."

Everyone groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Tony Butterfield ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tonbut/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tonbut/1163497610/in/photolist-kYffDM-6i37Zd-HrN5x-bUewVs-4pB2Ax-4J9WmB-2LPeiC-4pF4Ly-5GWitP-4w6UBK-7iJtUc-jGa7kQ-YxDt-r1y1Ph-26wzFL-4uNCG3-pbVAr-74LJqe-9vRXy1-aGyjsH-4N7qvU-Ri8UP-54moaK-5ShXSw-5PYcr9-dst6xZ-dJC7oR-4JecGJ-7iNpah-7JHpxo-4J9Y2e-7iNwjW-oo1NrW-6PghPa-c157sL-7iNpx9-mj4Vt-5GWk3X-9kdvB-q5of24-nycsDd-4pF2QN-ca4DTo-69pevq-4JeczS-7D1efW-4J9VLr-nzXmmD-fpTsnD-eViAzv).
> 
> This one's nothing but a little fluff, basically, and it brings a little smile to my face.
> 
> Edan's version of Glasgow's steel-toothed vampire is a mis-remembering (and an improvement, if you ask me) of the story of [the Gorbals Vampire](http://www.spookyisles.com/2014/03/the-gorbals-vampire-and-the-southern-necropolis/), which was brought to my attention by a Tumblr post about ineffective vampires. XD


	13. Sea-colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and his squad discuss colours and colour-blindness and inspire Vigsai's lifelong research interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 November 2005  
> Manchester, United Kingdom

\- our sea-glass bands, 8 November 2027 — Ruby Maher -

Sitting on the bottom bunk with a notepad on her lap, Vigsai groans. "I can't **believe** I have to work up basic phenotype-genotype eye colour charts for this class. This's **university** , not kindergarten." She brightens. "So, you're all my subjects. Edan, what colour are your eyes?"

"Why'm I your guinea pig?" Edan whines, sprawled on his bean bag.

Hermann takes up a notebook, compares a page to his.

"You're not. I already filled in Rhys' information. Don't be difficult, Gingersnap."

Edan sticks out his tongue and goes back to pretending to read.

Vigsai rolls her eyes. "Rhys, what colour are his eyes?"

"How should I know? It's not like I spend my spare time gazing into them. Ask Hermann."

"Why am I stuck working with infants?" Vigsai mumbles. She sighs heavily, then, "What colour would you call Edan's eyes, Hermann?"

"They're light?" offers Hermann.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"It's an honest one. I'm achromatopsic."

" **Achromatopsic?** " squeaks Vigsai.

Edan props himself up. "Wha?"

"It means he's **completely** colour-blind."

Hermann busies himself with his notes. "Everything's grey to me." Scans a page. "I don't even know what colour **my** eyes are, let alone anyone else's."

"That is **so** cool," breathes Vigsai.

Edan clears his throat, says, "They're a warm brown."

"Pardon?"

"Your eyes." Edan rubs his neck. "They're kinda chestnut."

An 'oh' slips out around the lump in Hermann's chest.

"Of course you'd know," sighs Rhys.

Edan hisses.

"Shut it, you two. This's really cool! Achromatopsia is **incredibly** rare! Hermann, were you born this way or did something happen to cause it? I'd love to take you down to the med lab and get a look at your retina!" She drifts closer and closer to Hermann, trying to peer into his eyes.

He scoots his chair until Edan is between himself and Vigsai to shield himself from her curious advance.

She leans over Edan.

"Do you miss them?" asks Rhys, freezing everyone in place.

Hermann ponders for a moment. "I can't miss what I've never had." He gently kicks Edan's shoulder. "Just tell her your eye colour and put us out of our misery."

"Well, my mum always says my eyes are the colour of the sea," Edan says, placing a theatrical hand over his heart.

"That's poetic of her. Probably the only poetic thing ever said about you," Rhys snarks. "Unless Hermann's waxed rhapsodic in your direction lately."

"Nah. He saves his lyrical impulses for the stars and other celestial bodies," sighs Edan.

"So, definitely not you, then."

A pillow flies across the room, aimed roughly at Rhys' head.

He knocks it aside easily. "Hermann, you have no idea, then, you're hanging out with the gingerest of twiggy Scottish gingers, do you? Poor thing probably thinks he's being pursued by a blond Scandinavian."

"There's nothing wrong with being a ginger Scot. It's honest Scottish colouration," Edan huffs.

"Whatever you say, Gingersnap. The twiggy's the funny bit, mate. I'm pretty sure we could wrap a sheet of A4 around you. Not that our Continental import's much more substantial, mind. Together you two skinny fucks might weigh as much as a normal person."

"You're just jealous of our girlish figures," Edan says with a dismissive gesture.

"Which reminds me," Vigsai breaks in, "we should probably go eat before the two of you—what do you space people say—collapse into singularities? I can finish this later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [adaenn ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/adaenn/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/adaenn/11783663745/in/photolist-d76Cq1-d76zx9-5nYqM9-cynhJE-5nTSPg-d76BwJ-Cmn8X-5nU36i-Xwudx-iXiEx4-3aQ3Kr-5nU6Np-5nU8HM-d76BJ5-d76Cc9-cynjah-cynijA-d76AAS-d76A6w-FELSB-d76AiJ-d76zoQ-d76BgY-d76zVm-9r8gHp-C6ZmzF-vrykP-6woUWd-9qZvMR-s9teyX-sVekii-twT5Db-st8ZFb-rVGDi5-yHa3ya-d76AuQ-cYSae7-d76z6f-d76zJf-3aQ7pt-d76BWb-32Zwr7-d6hA9m-23hpwF-8wWhC4-CQqa3-iXjtbq-iXhmGi-4YLfa7-iXiGeF).
> 
> Hermann's obliviousness is one of my favorite parts of this story--especially this chapter--and I love Rhys' attempts to 'help' here a lot.


	14. Skittish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iggy confronts Edan about Hermann's recent behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 November 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- ever feel like you're being watched? (07/10/07, Koffiefontein) -

A key turns in the lock and Edan glances over his shoulder as the door opens.

"'ey, Gingersnap," greets Iggy, shutting the door behind herself.

Edan swivels his chair. "'ey! What's up?"

"Not much." She drops her bag, plops onto the beanbag. "You?"

"I hate maths." Grimaces. "Still."

"No surprise there."

Edan sighs. "No lab for you today?"

"Nope. Doing double time on Thursday."

"Fuuuuun."

"Tell me about it."

"Yea." Edan runs a hand through his hair. "Anything else ... 'coz I'd like to finish this torture before dinner if I can?"

"One thing."

"Shoot."

"Is Hermann avoiding me?"

"Huh?"

"Hermann. Avoiding me. He's off like a shot soon as he sees me."

Edan rubs the back of his neck.

"You noticed, ay?"

"I ... well, yea."

"Don't suppose he's mentioned why to you."

"No, but ...."

Iggy waits.

Edan pushes his chair into a slow spin.

"Out with it."

"I, uh—" Stops the rotation. "—think he's a little embarrassed."

Iggy cocks her head. "Why?"

"'coz of the eye colour thing. I don't think he likes being, um, **examined** like that."

"All I did was try to get a look at his retina. He basically lets **you** strip him with your eyeballs," she huffs.

"I do not!" Edan yelps, face heating.

"Yea, you totally do."

Edan's ears catch fire.

Iggy crosses her arms, smirks.

"He's really cute," mumbles Edan.

"Not my type."

"Good."

Iggy rolls her eyes. "You should, I dunno, **say** something to him."

Edan whines.

"Either that or take one of the other offers you've been getting."

"I've gone on a couple of dates."

"Which, according to Rhys, ended on the front step with a chaste kiss on the cheek. At best."

"I can't help it there wasn't any chemistry," sulks Edan.

"Probably because you're too busy pining."

"I suppose you'd do better."

"Well, duh. I already have. I found a boyfriend on move-in day."

"Yea, but it's **Rhys**."

Iggy scoffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Didier Jansen](https://www.flickr.com/photos/didierjansen/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/didierjansen/6076303065/)
> 
> Because MoiraColleen wondered if Hermann would be nervous around Iggy after the events of the last chapter. The answer is 'yes, he would be'. XD


	15. Unknown Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sore Hermann lets down his guard enough to accept some comfort food from Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 November 2005  
> Manchester, United Kingdom

\- Legend says Marshal Arriola arrived on Earth in a ship much like this — July 26, 2020 — P&L! -

Hermann hobbles into the lecture hall internally cursing his aching knee.

Doctor Smith lasers in on him. "Thank you for joining us, Mr Gottlieb."

Hermann cringes, slinks into the only open seat in the room: front row, dead center.

"I hope you don't expect special consideration in relation to the tardy policy because of your disability. There will be none when you go out in the world."

"Yes, sir," murmurs Hermann, digging out his pencil and notes. He breathes carefully as he straightens, calming himself and relaxing his trembling wings into stillness.

Between his classmates' stares on his back and Doctor Smith's repeated questions, the period is excruciating.

"That's all for today," declares Doctor Smith.

Hermann lets out a shaky sigh, shoulders softening as they release some of their tension.

Edan's beside him an instant later, face full of concern. "You alright?"

Hermann grits his teeth as he pushes to his feet, bad knee protesting. "I'm fine. My knee is a little sore, is all."

"Still? From when you fell on the ice yesterday morning?"

"Yes." Hermann's anger bubbles up at the pity. "Doesn't waiting for me **bother** you? Aren't you embarrassed to be seen with a bad-tempered cripple?"

"Who and what the **fuck** are you talking about?"

Hermann slumps back into his chair before his knee can give way beneath him. "Me. I'm fucking **crippled** , if you hadn't noticed. I can't even walk across campus like a normal person," he snarls.

"I'm not friends with your **leg** , for Christ's sake. I'm friends with **you**." Edan runs a hand through his hair, leaving much of it sticking up. "Listen. If you want to go back to your room, I'll take notes for both of us and bring you some food. Walking on that knee /has to be making it worse. You should rest now so you'll be full speed tomorrow."

Hermann lurches to his feet and wobbles.

Edan catches his elbow—

Hermann tears free, snaps, "Don't."

—takes a step back, hands up, palms out.

Hermann breathes deeply through his nose for a mental five-count. Finally, he grinds out, "I would appreciate it if you would take notes for me this afternoon."

Edan's posture relaxes. "No problem. You'll make it back alright?"

Hermann nods, takes up his cane, begins to pick his way from the room.

Edan smiles encouragingly, takes off at a run to make the next lecture on time.

Hermann watches Edan's retreating back with envy, then hobbles from the room, the building, across a strip of campus to his dorm.

The trip takes twice the usual time.

He bolts the door and flops face-down on his bed. His knee throbs, his side aches, and his wings burn under their restraint.

Hermann pushes to sitting and shrugs out of his layers, his binding last of all. He flexes his wings and hisses at the pull of the muscles against his ribs.

„Shit shit Hell.“

He shuffles to the mini-fridge, extracts cold gel packs, hops back to the bed, drops one pack on the mattress, eases himself down, resting his knee on the ice. The other pack he tucks against his side.

He tries and fails to stifle a yawn as he sets an alarm on his mobile for two hours in the future. Then he spreads his wings, pillows his head on his arms, and dozes.

Hermann jerks awake when his mobile screams and he paws at it to make it **stop**.

Lies there a moment waiting for his heart to quit racing.

With a sigh, he hauls himself to the edge of the mattress and sits up. He gathers up his clothes, wraps himself in all the necessary layers, puts the ice packs back in the fridge.

A knock at the door, almost exactly when Hermann predicted it would come.

Hermann shuffles over, unbolts, swings the door open.

Edan smiles. "Sorry I took so long, but I stopped to copy my notes for you." Beams. "On the bright side, I brought Manchester's best curry for us both." Proffers a takeaway bag.

Hermann accepts, starts unpacking it onto his desk. "Where do you get the money for all of this?"

"My parents give me a little 'have fun' allowance and since I don't spend as much on pints as my da expects ...." Shrugs.

Hermann chuckles.

"Yea ... I'm kind of a cheap date. A couple and all my filters fall off." Ducks his head. "So I have to watch myself."

"I can't drink much alcohol, either." Hermann grimaces. "I get sick."

"Guess we shouldn't be surprised we're lightweights, yea?"

"That's a **horrible** pun."

"But you almost laughed."

"At you, not **with** you."

"Harsh, mate." Edan chuckles. "Harsh, but true."

Hermann hides a smile in fishing plastic utensils from the bottom of the bag.

"How should we do this?"

"Do what?"

"Sitting? The chair's probably hard on your knee?"

"Oh. Right. On the bed?"

"That'll work," chirps Edan. "You get yourself comfy and I'll pass you the food."

Hermann swallows another smile, hops over and up, scoots himself across the quilt until his back touches the wall.

"Set?"

"Yes."

"Your curry, sir." Edan, grinning, hands over a clam-shell case, a fork, and a couple of napkins.

"Thank you."

"Anything else I can get you?"

Hermann chews his lip.

"Something for your knee maybe?"

Hermann sighs. "Yes, please. There are ice packs in the fridge."

Edan retrieves one—

Hermann takes—frowns at his full hands.

—drapes it across Hermann's knee. "That where it needs to be?"

"Yes," replies Hermann, face heating.

"Mind if I put some music on?"

"Go ahead."

Edan fiddles about with Hermann's laptop until the speakers buzz with the kind of music often playing in his room. He cheers, then grabs his own meal and settles in beside Hermann, so close their arms nearly brush.

Hermann keeps his attention firmly on his food while they eat in companionable near-silence.

Edan's finished and Hermann has only a few mouthfuls left when the music crackles and Edan sits straighter.

Hermann side-eyes—

"Ooo!" Edan cries and launches himself off the bed to the laptop. "Joy Division! I love this song!" He pushes the volume to its upper limit.

The speakers whine.

Edan—is he dancing?

He's **dancing**.

Hermann sets down his fork to watch.

Edan continues, oblivious. Then the song ends and he turns the volume back to a safe level.

"What'd you think?

Hermann's face flames. "O-of what?"

"The **song** , Gottlieb."

"Oh. Right." Hermann clears his throat. "It sounded familiar, but I can't quite place it. I rather liked it."

"You 'rather liked it'?" scoffs Edan.

Hermann cringes.

"What a ringing endorsement for Manchester's greatest band!" Edan laughs—

Hermann uncurls.

—continues, "It's Joy Division, mate! And 'New Dawn Fades'—that song—is pretty much the anchor of their first album. I'm downloading it for you. You need to get some culture," he jokes as he logs into iTunes.

"I'm so glad you're around to educate me about the finer things in life," Hermann replies sarcastically. "I had no idea how boring I was before I met you."

"You were **never** boring: you just needed some polish."

"Which you're happy to provide, I suppose?"

"Ridiculously happy, mate." He grins.

Hermann smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Dimitri Kountourogianni ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dimitrik/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dimitrik/70402357/).
> 
> Does this count as a date? It's sort of a date? There's dinner and and music and dancing? 
> 
> God, I love these two dorks so much.
> 
> [This is the song that has Edan so excited.](https://youtu.be/kqkjtZwuE-U)


	16. Chemist's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet discuss pharmaceuticals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 November 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1371.jpg [Stuffed toy, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Vigsai pushes to her feet, says, "You boys behave while I'm gone."

"'s'not class time, so where're you going?" asks Edan from his beanbag.

Hermann turns a page in his textbook.

"Doctor Marsh wants to talk to me about doing an independent study."

"Already?"

"Well, I'm brilliant, yea, and—"

"That's my girl," smugs Rhys.

Vigsai rolls her eyes, but smiles brightly. "'pparently he has grant money from some French company to burn on tissue replication projects."

" **Undergrad** research projects?"

"How better for Big Pharma to poach the best and brightest than to hook 'em young?" answers Rhys.

"I need to change my programme," mutters Edan.

"Well, whatever, behave."

"Later, Iggy."

"Goodbye, Vigsai."

"See ye, love."

Away Vigsai goes.

"I should shove off, too," says Rhys. "You two wanna swing by the chemist's with me?"

Hermann looks up from his text and over his glasses. "Pardon?"

"I have to pick up my inhaler."

"Why would I go to the chemist's?"

"Your prescription? I noticed you were running low yesterday," says Edan.

"You watch—" Shakes his head. "I don't get them from the chemist's."

"But those are controlled? You need a prescription?"

Hermann shrugs. "They come by post. My father mails them."

Edan frowns at him.

"What about you, Gingersnap?"

"I'm good."

"Cool. See you guys." Rhys sets off with a wave.

Hermann goes back to reading.

Edan shifts, cushion _shoof_ ing.

Hermann turns a page.

"Hermann?"

He grunts, turns a page.

"You're not getting those drugs off the street, are you?"

"Of course not. They're legitimate and I have a legitimate need for them."

"O-of course. I didn't—I just don't want you messing about with the wrong sorts."

"Unless my father is 'the wrong sort', I'm not." He turns another page.

"Good, good." Edan exhales. "I mean, I've known some folks who've gotten mixed up in that sorta crap and it's really hard to stay safe and even harder to get out."

Hermann sighs, rests his book on his lap. "I'm not and never have been involved with the drugs trade." Narrows his eyes, heart twitching. "Are you?"

" **No!** " yelps Edan. "I just really have known a few people who got in and had all sorts of trouble and-and one who died 'coz he did." Runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to see anyone else go that way, yea?"

Hermann swallows the lump in his throat. "I-I see. Please trust I'll **never** mess about in that world." Smiles weakly. "I have enough trouble without it."

Edan sorta laughs. "'specially now that you're hanging out with me and Swansea."

"You're more likely to be the death of me than any drug," drawls Hermann.

"I'd better improve my behaviour then. I don't fancy being the cause of anyone's death."

Herman snorts a laugh and goes back to his reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of this adorkable relationship can be found over at "[Angel Experiment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7689544)". A link over there will bring you back to the next chapter of the tale.
> 
> Photo by [Snugg LePup](https://www.flickr.com/photos/snugglepup/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/snugglepup/3309033849/).
> 
> A little thing, filling in some more gaps in Hermann's health history and built around a mini-scene by artificiallifecreator.
> 
> For such a harmless dork, Edan sure has some colorful stories.


	17. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against his better judgment, Hermann prepares to spend an evening on the town with Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 December 2005  
> Manchester, United Kingdom

\- How many does he have?!?! ~ A, R. Raharuhi, Puanga-Rua; May 7/2025 -

Hermann checks his profile in his washroom mirror, frowns.

Takes a deep breath, tugs the straps on his binding until his wing bones dig into his back and the edges of the contraption bite into his skin.

But his outline's a little smoother and that's what matters tonight.

"I must be going mad," he mumbles to himself. "Someone will notice I'm **wrong**." Nevertheless, he yanks on an undershirt and a looser tee before he can reconsider.

Checks his profile again.

Still pretty smooth.

Edan raps—

Hermann startles.

—his usual pattern on the door.

He shuffles across the room, hands twitching to bleed off nervous energy, unlocks and opens the door.

Edan grins as he shakes the last snowflakes from his hair. "Found it!" Steps inside, brandishes a dark-coloured shirt. "This should keep you warm enough tonight."

"Thanks." Hermann nabs it, quickly threads himself through.

"Already chilled, were you? Can't survive ten minutes without your jumper?"

Hermann punches his arm.

"'ey! What was that for?!"

"For teasing me when you're wearing a jacket **and** a hoodie."

Edan laughs. "Guilty, I guess." Pulls off his coat, hangs it on the hook next to the door. "'course, I was planning on taking it off the whole time."

Hermann sniffs and gets a lungful of strawberry and cheap laundry soap.

"You ready then?"

Edan uses strawberry soap.

"Hermann?"

Hermann jerks back to himself, blushing. "Let's—" Clears his throat. "Let's go."

Edan offers an arm.

Hermann tucks his hands in his pockets.

Edan ... sighs?

Hermann shrugs it off, bows Edan out, locks up behind them.

"I'm **so** glad you decided to join me. These guys are **brilliant**."

"What're they called again?"

"All Forgotten Youth." Rubs his neck. "Yea, it's a mite overblown."

"Really," drawls Hermann.

"Art students." Edan shrugs helplessly. "What can you do?"

Hermann laughs.

Edan's steps falter and he nearly falls.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yea. 'm fine." Takes a deep breath, eyes on the pavement. "Got distracted. Wasn't watching where I was going."

Hermann hums. "They really need to do a better job with the ice on campus."

"Yea, we really do," Edan sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Robert Sheie ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/85546319@N04/)[[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/85546319@N04/15719782162/).
> 
> For folks familiar with the old "Ginger", this is a _completely_ new scene. Yeehaw! Completely fresh content!
> 
> Does this count as a date? It's sort of a date? It involves going out to an event together? It's probably a date.


	18. Orbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A take-home exam leads to Hermann and Edan spending a night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 December 2005  
> Manchester, United Kingdom

\- why didn't anyone tell me about these?!?! (04/02/17, Lima) -

The alarm clock on the edge of the dresser shows four-oh-nine A.-bloody-M.

Hermann's shoulders burn, his knee aches, and his wings whimper, but he scratches away at the next step of problem seven of the take-home exam.

Which's due at eight.

Edan peers over his arm, announces, "That figure's not right."

"Yes, it is," snarls Hermann.

"No, it should be—"

"I tested into four-hundred level calculus! My math is good!" he shouts.

"I know it is, Hermann!" Edan yells back, exasperated. "That's why I let you do it! But **that's** the wrong orbital period!"

Hermann glares at the equation. "Oh." Rests his hand on his nape. "Sorry." Rubs out the mistake, inserts the correct number, and recalculates.

"It's alright," reassures Edan. "We're both up **way** past our bedtimes."

Hermann snorts, multiplies his way through the next stage.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Hermann stops. "What're you talking about?"

"We should've started yesterday, but I dragged you out to that show. So, yea, I'm sorry."

Hermann turns back to maths. "It's alright. I, uh, had a good time."

Edan blinks a couple of time, then grins. "I'm **so** glad to hear that." He leans back in his chair.

Hermann taps the end of his pencil against the desk, eyes down. "I'd happily go out wi—like that again."

"Really?" squeaks Edan.

Hermann side-eyes him. "Yes, I would."

Edan **sparkles** , quickly ducks his head, runs a hand through his hair. "It's, umm, the approach vector next, yea?"

"Yes."

"Cool. I've already got that sorted."

Hermann offers the pencil, scoots out of Edan's way.

Edan flies through the math—not **quite** as fast as Hermann would, but still—arrives at the answer. "That look right to you?"

Hermann nods.

"Now we need to slow down, then land this baby."

Hermann hums agreement.

"You do the thrust and I'll do the friction?"

"Sounds fair."

"Brilliant!"

They exchange smiles, dive into the work.

Then on through problem eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Edan sits back, stretches his spine, then his arms. "Thank **God** we're **finally** done with that."

"Just in time for sunrise," yawns Hermann.

"About that ... lemme sleep here a couple hours," Edan says. "I'll never make it back to my room in this state."

Hermann is suddenly very awake. "I'm not sure ...."

"Don't worry. I'm too tired to do anything but snore. Hope that's not a problem." Edan gives a jaw-cracking yawn.

Hermann fights off a yawn of his own. "Alright." Smiles crookedly. "You get the outside, though."

"Brilliant."

Hermann limps over to the bed, slides in with his back close to the wall.

"You need a blanket or something?"

"I'll be fine with—" Swallows. "—with your body heat."

"Oh, right." Edan's neck blushes.

"Would you get the light, please?"

Edan flips the switch and carefully tucks himself in with his back to Hermann. "Goodnight, Hermann," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Edan."

Hermann lets his eyes drift shut, takes a deep breath scented with powder down, laundry detergent, and strawberry soap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Paola Sucato](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ci_polla/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ci_polla/5256101578/).
> 
> Does _this_ count as a date? It's sort of a date? They're sharing a _bed_ , for Pete's sake! It was at about this point in the story where I started wanting to strangle _both_ of them for not saying _something_ to the other. I mean, c'mon, Edan! You've had datemates before! Grow a spine!


	19. Unchanged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan face gentle mockery over breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 December 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1893.jpg [Peridot, Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann fumbles, touches something soft and warm—

The lumpy blanket shudders, says, ""Tha's my ear.""

—freezes.

His mobile alarm keeps chirping.

""Puh- **lease** tell me tha's not th' alarm.""

Hermann's heart stutters.

""'s yer alarm, innit?""

The lump is Edan.

Hermann might be breathing.

Edan rolls over to face him, smiles. "'mornin'."

Chirping ceases.

Hermann swallows, still squeaks, "Good morning."

"Ye sleep alright?"

"Just—" Clears his throat. "Just fine."

"Brilliant. Glad I didn't disturb ye; Rhys **insists** I snore like a sawmill." Beams, pushes up onto his elbows. "I think—how 'bout this: I splash some water on my face, run our exam in, and meet you back here for the walk to breakfast?"

Hermann stares blearily at Edan's cheekbone.

Edan sits up, waves a hand in front of his eyes. "Hermann?"

He startles, pushes up, too. "I'm fine. Sorry."

"You **sure** you're alright?"

"Y-yea. I'm just ... a bit of a slow riser."

"Alright then, sleepyhead, what do you think of my plan?"

"It's, ah, very good. I'll make myself ready while you're out."

"Brilliant. I'm off, then!" Edan hops out of bed, positively **skips** to the washroom.

Hermann watches, allows his wings a tiny, happy quiver.

Edan, marginally less askew, reappears. "Right, then. I'll be back before you know it!" Waves, opens the door, steps—

"Papers!" yelps Hermann.

Edan pivots, smiling sheepishly, nabs the exam, ducks through the door—""See you!""—and out of sight.

Hermann sighs, shakes his head. He eases cautiously to his feet, pushes the door shut, locks it. After a moment to breathe, he takes up his cane and limps on an especially stiff knee to the washroom.

His reflection glows at him from the mirror and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

A wing twinges, so Hermann fumbles out of his clothes and binder with fingers not fully synced to his brain.

His wings creak as he stretches them slowly.  At their full spread, he flutters, sending a few loose feathers drifting to the tile.

Off come the rest of his clothes and he eases into the shower, quickly scrubs down. The warm water soothes away many of the aches and pains of  the previous day's tension and the extended time bound.

Hermann scoops up the fallen feathers, stuffs them in the biohazard box and rushes through the rest of his morning routine—teeth, clothes, hair, rucksack, last check for feathers, shoes—finishing just as a knock sounds at the door. He swings it open on a grinning Edan.

"Mission accomplished!" Bounces on his toes. "Ready to go?"

Hermann grunts an affirmative, settles his rucksack over his shoulder—

Edan steps aside.

—trumps out, locks up behind them.

They stroll along the pavement to the dining hall, Edan whistling.

"What's that song?"

Edan winces. "It's, ah, sorta how The Fall steamrolled an old song called "Rollin' Danny"."

"What's so cringe-worthy about it?"

"It's not very punk?"

"That's a problem?"

"Kinda? It costs you cred with the purists."

Hermann raises an eyebrow. "I thought one of the major tenets of the punk movement was 'do it your own way and damn the elitists'?"

"That's for the bands, not the fans."

"Sounds like an arbitrary, rather pointless, designation."

"Yea, but it's the difference between mockery and acceptance."

"It's only music," huffs Hermann.

"For some folks, it's a matter of honour."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

Edan shrugs, holds the dining hall door for Hermann, then loads their meals on a single tray and carries it to where Vigsai and Rhys wait for them.

"A very merry morning to one and all!" cheers Edan, setting down their tray and sliding in at the table.

"'mornin'," greets Vigsai.

Rhys grunts.

"Good morning." Hermann take his place next to Edan, picks up his spoon, tucks into his oatmeal.

Rhys and Vigsai exchange a look.

"Whuff?"

"Manners, Gingersnap."

Edan swallows. "What are you all significant looks about?"

Rhys chin-hands. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

She sighs, "It seems like only yesterday—"

"Hold up a moment. Hermann, how old're you again?"

"I turned sixteen in June."

Rhys nods absently. "Good, good. No problems there, then."

Edan blushes violently.

Hermann pretends not to notice and works away at his food.

"You planning on stopping by the room and changing before your first lecture?"

"Don't have the time." Edan glowers. "If anyone gives me shit, I'll tell 'em it's laundry day."

"I'm sure **that** will quell any rumours which may sprout," drawls Rhys.

Edan fluffs his hair, leaving it even **more** rumpled than previously, grumbles.

Hermann turns his attention to his banana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Chris Rock](https://www.flickr.com/photos/crock/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/crock/252015565/in/photolist-ogDrX-ocvh2o-9UJap-3WT4i-nVazPY-nVbbg2-kqRQgv-BneK7-oczB4b-6ueehi-aNr5fc-ocmSbv-oaBqE7-gEgXS9-fCvPKA-nVaFKr-ocE6Vp-5M7ifS-9j9KQX-ocE6sF-ocE6oT-6bqqLD-oczB6f-ocE846-8Qx91x-ocDJvR-oaBNRw-rUZVrn-nCV3d-jCKsvy-9B4ia6-egzTDQ-nCV38-dqChg4-9iF6CK-Fa5Cq-egzTzE-8oCxHF-2kZAzA-69Ggey-7SjHRM-ocmu3T-ocmtUg-53V9qw-nVazMy-nCV3a-oaBMmY-dw32Qs-6kVDu7-64589g)
> 
> Aaaaand the inevitable aftermath of an all-nighter is visited upon Edan. You didn't think Rhys could let it slide, did you?
> 
> Edan references another classic post-punk Manchester band here, [The Fall](https://youtu.be/IuO14pQ0IzM).


	20. Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan explains his 'hands-off' policy toward Hermann to a curious Rhys and Iggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 December 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- the real Silent Hill (17/4/26, Centralia) — Jackson J -

Edan slouches, exhausted, back to his room after lunch to get some blessed fucking **sleep**. He manages to lock up, turns—

Rhys and Iggy leer, perched side-by-side on Rhys' desk.

"What?" sighs Edan as he bends to fumble with his trainers.

Iggy sparkles, leans forward. "Tell us the truth, Gingersnap: what happened between you and Hermann last night?"

"Don't spare us a single sexy detail." Rhys waggles his eyebrows.

Edan straightens (mostly), runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing but an exam and sleeping happened."

"That's **it**?"

Edan gives him a Look. "We were up 'til six working on the exam, then we went to sleep for a whole **hour**."

"Kissing?"

"No." Edan flops onto his bunk, drapes his arm across his eyes.

"Cuddling?"

"Nope."

" **Seriously?** "

"What part of 'up 'til six' means we had enough energy to cuddle?"

"It's not like snuggles are a high-energy activity."

"Why do you care what we did or didn't do last night?"

"Maybe because you've been looking for a chance like this since the start of the term?"

"And you apparently totally blew it."

Edan peers out. "There's ... he's not comfortable with touch and I don't want to pressurize him."

"Wait. You mean to say you've never even **touched** the object of your affection?"

"Uh, not really?" Sighs. "Brushed his hand passing him things, grabbed his arm to keep him from falling, bumped him dancing a couple of times ...."

"You're kidding."

"Sounds like you're afraid he has cooties."

"I'm not pushing him."

"Or holding hands or hugging or—"

Edan throws himself to sitting. "Look, I think he's been abused. He fuckin' flinches whenever I **do** touch him. I'm not gonna add to the trauma: that's the **last** thing he needs."

Iggy and Rhys exchange a look.

"That explains **so** much. How didn't we see it?"

Rhys nods. "The touch thing, the standoffishness, his story about being sick so much as a kid—"

"Oh my God," breathes Iggy, covering her mouth with her hand.

"His leg, right? 'Fell off the roof', my ass," growls Edan. "Someone pushed him down stairs or something."

"Then didn't get him proper treatment," finishes Rhys. "The fucking monsters."

Edan grunts. "And now he lies about it, blames himself, like an abused kid would."

A quiet beat; Edan lies back, re-drapes his arm.

"When'd you realize?"

"First lecture. Kid bumped into him and he curled up like a pangolin." Sighs. "Only seen that from a neighbourhood kid who got beat every damn day by his mum."

" **That's** why you've been so careful around him."

"Yea. Exactly." Edan yawns. "I'm not gonna hurt him."

"You're kinda amazing, Gingersnap. Figuring that out so fast."

Edan waves it off.

"You know what else is amazing about him, Iggy?"

"What's that?"

"He knows what a pangolin is."

Edan sniffs, makes an obscene gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [firefightersdaughter](https://www.flickr.com/photos/firefightersdaughter/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/firefightersdaughter/130514101/)
> 
> This one's for Gothams_Only_Wolf, whose comment on the previous chapter inspired this one.


	21. Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan finally have a heart-to-heart talk after a bit of prompting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 - 16 December 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- best space photo I ever took — S. D'onofrio (Jan 12 2010, Cocoa Beach) -

Hermann sits alone in the dining hall, nibbling his way into a bowl of oat ring cereal, idly wondering if he should go through the line again for some sausage or eggs or beans on toast.

"Hey, Hermann," greets Rhys, slouching into a seat across the table.

Hermann grunts around a mouthful and waves his spoon.

"You gotta minute?"

Hermann nods.

"So, you're aware Gingersnap's been flirting with you—shamelessly—since the day we met, right?"

Hermann nearly chokes on his cereal, swallows hard. "Edan?"

"You hang out with any other red-haired Scottish dorks?"

"Well, no, but ... he's not ... I didn't ... umm ... **what**?"

"I thought so. You're **both** dense as lead," huffs Rhys. "Listen, I don't know what your problem is, but **please** either agree to date him or tell him you're not interested. Otherwise he's going to drive me fucking **nuts**."

Hermann's jaw drops

Rhys rolls his eyes, sighs, "Science people," then hauls himself to his feet and leaves.

Hermann doesn't breathe or move for a good two minutes and then it's only to mumble, "What the bloody hell is he talking about?"

His mobile chirps a warning to leave for his first class of the day.

Hermann shakes loose the cottony fluff filling his head, shoves to his feet, gathers his bag, dumps his tray at the bin, and trudges to the mathematics building.

The day blurs past in lectures, labs, mild winter air, walks criss-crossing campus, and intrusive thoughts about a certain someone and the certainly false suggestion he could be romantically interested in someone like himself.

He wanders in and out of a doze, face-down in his pillow, after dinner.

His mobile _honk_ s.

Hermann fumbles blindly for it, props himself up on his elbows, finally manages to open the text.

**Lars_Gottlieb:** Come home on tomorrow's train.

**Lars_Gottlieb:** Your ticket is waiting.

**hermann_g:** I thought I was returning on Saturday.

**Lars_Gottlieb:** The weather is deteriorating and you may be stranded if you leave later.

Hermann bites his lip, forces his fingers to type—

**hermann_g:** I understand.

—tosses the mobile to the foot of the bed, re-buries his face in the cushion with a groan.

Edan's knock snaps Hermann fully awake and he flails off the mattress, to his feet, and across the room, gets the lock on the second try, flings open the door.

"Hey." Edan fluffs a couple of snowflakes from his hair. "You had dinner?"

"Ye—" Hermann clears his throat. "Yes."

"So you're done for the term, yea?"

"Yes."

"Can we go for a walk?" Jazz-hands "Just a short one, I promise. I found a great place for stargazing behind the theater and—"

"That sounds pleasant. Let me grab my coat."

"It's chilly, so you should probably throw on an extra jumper, too."

Hermann nods absently as he digs his warmest jumper from his dresser, stuffs himself inside, and bundles up his long wool coat.

Edan hovers just inside the door, shifting his feet. "Ready?"

"Ready." Hermann bows Edan out, locks up behind.

They walk side-by-side, arms occasionally brushing, through the campus to a dark spot along on the path, the sky overhead protected from light pollution by a scattering of tall, dark buildings.

Hermann's cane slips—

Edan catches hold of his elbow, steadies him.

—checks his balance, murmurs, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. There's a bench over here." He guides Hermann over with a light touch on his arm.

They ease themselves down, lean back, shoulders brushing lightly, and admire the stars.

"Any of your favourites out tonight?"

Hermann tilts his head further back to take in the full sweep of the sky. "Altair," he says and points, picking out a single bright point in the thick carpet of lights arcing above them.

"You can put the hand down. I know which one she is."

"Oh. Of course." Hermann feels his face heat.

Edan nudges his side with an elbow. "You know ... we've both been looking up there all our lives and I've had three more years to look."

Hermann relaxes, shoulders releasing a little of their tension.

"I'm an Antares man, myself, but the damn lights are **still** ruining her."

Hermann snorts.

"Bloody cities," Edan mutters.

"You're **from** a city."

"Yea, but it's a city with dark places nearby where you can see **everything**." Sighs contently. "Only been gone five months and I already miss scampering up Ben Lomond for the view."

"What?"

"It's a mountain. My favourite mountain."

"Ah."

They listen to the leafless branches clacking together, not speaking for long minutes.

"I'm more than a little in love with you," Edan finally says conversationally, as if it was the most unremarkable thing in the world.

Hermann stops breathing—

"You really had no clue, did you?"

—and his heart stutters.

"It's been like trying to charm a wall."

Hermann still doesn't move.

"I mean, I know I'm not the greatest catch, but ... well, I'm yours. If you'll have me."

"I ... don't know what to say .... Are you sure?" croaks Hermann.

Edan laughs—

Hermann's heart flutters, takes flight.

—says, "I'm sure, Hermann. Completely sure. Cross my heart." He makes the matching gesture.

"Oh. That's good ... I think." Hermann takes a deep and shaky breath. "I'm sure ... I'm sure I want to be yours, too."

"Thank **God**. My heart can start beating again." Edan slouches. "Well, seeing as I just gave it to you, I hope you'll let me use it for something as mundane as pumping blood," he says with a mischievous smile.

Hermann gives in to a goofy grin. "Of course. I don't think this will be quite as much fun if I let you die."

"No, probably not," Edan says through another laugh.

A pleasant beat, light with hope.

"I'd like to kiss you. That alright?"

Hermann gives a timid nod.

Edan smiles reassuringly as he takes a gentle hold of Hermann's chin and guides their lips together. It's quick and it's soft and it's warm and Hermann's not sure it's much of a kiss by typical standards, but it's enough to short-circuit the few parts of his brain still functioning.

The world swirls and Hermann's wings tremble under his layers and he wobbles in his seat.

Edan places a hand on the nape of his neck to ground him.

Hermann calms, settles.

"Wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No. No, not bad at all," Hermann manages with a small, crooked smile.

Edan replies with a warm one.

Hermann threads his chilled fingers through Edan's.

Edan squeezes. "Listen, I know you're not big on touching, and I want you to know that's okay with me. You lead and I'll follow. Like dancing."

"Oh. Um. Thank you." Hermann rests his head cautiously on Edan's shoulder, whispers, "I'm ... not used to being touched. At least, not affectionately."

Edan bristles. "You won't have to worry about that while I'm around, okay?" He squeezes Hermann's hand again.

Hermann nestles closer.

A quiet interval.

"Edan?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you say to Foster, that first day?"

Edan shifts. "I let him know I knew he cheated on his girlfriend and it would be all over campus if he didn't leave you alone."

"Oh. Thank you for that."

"Thank Iggy for being a gi- **gantic** gossip."

Hermann snorts.

Edan nuzzles his hair.

For a long while, Hermann sits quietly, content to soak in the nearness of another ... of his friend ... his **boyfriend**.

His brain fizzes anew.

The temperature slowly drops, clouds obscure the stars, and snow begins to drift down.

"Edan?" Hermann whispers, eventually.

A sleepy hum in response.

"I have to go. I need to get ready for my train."

Edan sits straighter. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"

"My father texted and wants me to take today's train because of the weather."

"It's already getting sketchy. Maybe you should check with your dad and the station."

Hermann digs out his mobile and a quick internet search reveals the train is still scheduled to leave on time.

Hermann chews his lip.

**hermann_g:** The weather is holding; may I wait a day?

The response is immediate.

**Lars_Gottlieb:** No. Get to the station.

Heart sinking, Hermann offers Edan a view of the screen.

"Dammit," he sighs. "Let's collect your things, then." He climbs to his feet and helps Hermann rise.

They hold hands on the walk and Edan leans lightly against Hermann's side, his presence warm and solid and comforting.

"I shouldn't have waited this long to talk to you," Edan says as Hermann gathers up a few belongings in his room and stuffs them into his rucksack.

Hermann pauses and a cautious smile lights his face. "You really shouldn't have waited at all. I've hoped you would say something since the first day of class."

Edan face-palms and looks at Hermann through his fingers. "Seriously?"

Hermann nods. "By far the best looking and most intelligent person in the program? It's no wonder I was daydreaming about you."

Edan's jaw drops. "Jesus **Christ**. Rhys is right. I'm an **idiot**."

"You're just shy."

Edan howls with laughter. "Can you repeat that to my mum? She'd never believe **anyone** said that about me!"

"Maybe I'm a special case?"

"That must be it." Edan ducks his head. "You certainly are special."

Hermann blushes. "I ... I think I have everything I need."

Edan checks his watch. "And we have plenty of time to make the station. You're on the eight-thirty, yea?"

"Yea." Hermann sighs, shoulders his bag. "Might as well get this over with."

"Not looking forward to it?"

"No." Locks the door, follows Edan along the hall to the door. "I'm not fond of visiting my father's house. If it weren't for my little brother, I would never go back."

"Maybe next holiday you can visit my family. They'll **love** you."

Hermann shrugs.

"They really will." Edan offers his arm.

Hermann links his.

Arm-in-arm they stroll to the station.

Hermann collects his ticket, drags himself (and Edan) to the platform to wait for the train.

Which—goddammit—arrives on time.

"I'll miss you," declares Edan after the announcement to board is made.

"It's only a month," Hermann says, trying to sound reasonable.

"So?" Edan pouts. "That's a long time! I'll call you **constantly**."

Hermann rolls his eyes. "I'll be back."

"Good. You'd better." Edan shifts his feet. "May I hug you?"

"I'd rather not, but—" Hermann pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Edan on the lips, a little awkwardly, but with all his heart behind it. "I'll miss you."

"Ditto, Hermann."

With a last wave and glance, Hermann boards the train. He stares out the window until the station disappears from sight, then settles more deeply in his seat. He grins to himself.

A chirp from his mobile.

**edan_the_red:** Txt whn u get in plz

Hermann smiles and rolls his eyes.

**hermann_g:** I just got on the train

**edan_the_red:** Dnt want u to forget

**hermann_g:** How could I?

**edan_the_red:** I wont let you

Hermann yawns so hard his jaw cracks.

**hermann_g:** I need to get some sleep

**hermann_g:** Txt later?

**edan_the_red:** Of course!

**edan_the_red:** <3

Hermann's fingers shake.

**hermann_g:** <3

He tucks the mobile into the inside pocket of his coat and lets his eyes flutter shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Jen Scheer](https://www.flickr.com/photos/forthebirds/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/forthebirds/4270004662/).
> 
> These two dorks _finally_ got their acts together and isn't it cute? I love this chapter and hope y'all do, too.


	22. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither the deteriorating weather or mocking from Rhys and Iggy can dampen Edan's spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 December 2005  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1466.jpg [Snowy University of Manchester campus, Manchester, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan floats with the snowflakes to the residence hall and through the open door to his room.

"'ey, Gingersnap," greets Iggy from the beanbag.

"'eyyyyy."

Rhys straightens from digging in his dresser, gazes heavenward, sighs, "Thank God."

"For what?"

Edan drifts down onto his mattress—

"He talked to him. **Finally.** "

—flutter kicks the rug, squeals, "We kissed!"

"Ohmigod congratulations!"

"Thank yoooooou~!"

"Now, was that so bad?"

Edan ignores him, squees again.

""Less mocking, more packing.""

""Easy for you to say, love. You're just headed down the street.""

""And you're headed to a whole 'nother country, yea yea yea."" Iggy waves airily, then jerks a thumb toward Edan. "" **He's** not freaking out about heading to another planet.""

""Even if he wasn't walking on air because of his love life, he'd be over the moon just to get the fuck out of England. Right, Gingersnap?""

Edan startles, blinks back into the room. "Wha?"

Rhys grumps, "He's **already** on another planet."

"'course he is. He's got a **boyfriend** ~!"

"Maybe now he'll stop driving me bonkers." Rhys returns to his dresser. "Shouldn't you be packing?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you, you love drunk muppet."

"I, uh, I'm supposed to leave tomorrow."

"Good luck with that, what with this storm." Rhys stuffs a handful of jumpers into a duffel. "It hasn't even properly started yet."

"And it's already so pretty out there," sighs Edan.

"It'd be pretty to you if it was raining blood and toads."

Iggy giggles and, "I wonder if they'd stop the trains for that."

"Very funny. Do you think I should bring extra socks?"

"Nah. You'll probably get a pile for Christmas anyway."

"Don't remind me," grunts Rhys.

Edan shakes the Hermann-coloured fluff out of his head. "Do you guys really think the trains'll stop?"

Iggy consults her mobile. "Ireland's pretty much stopped **everything** already, including the ferries, and Cornwall's thinking about it." Grins at them. "You boys're next."

Rhys whines, packs more aggressively.

Edan chews his lip.

"Love, would you check and see if there's a seat on an earlier train?"

Iggy thumbs up.

"I should've gone with him." Edan buries his face in his hands.

"You'd risk the wrath of your mum and sister for missing the holidays for an unplanned trip to the Continent."

"I'd risk **anything**."

"Dear God, he's **completely** lost his mind."

"Good thing it's the holidays, then, and he won't need it." Iggy shrugs.

Rhys snorts.

"You've got a ticket on the eleven-thirty now."

"Thank you, love."

"Or I should've taken him home with me."

"And risk bringing the wrath of **his** family down on both of you."

Edan whimpers, cringes.

"Oop! There goes Falmouth~!" sings Iggy.

"Jesus fucking football Christ."

Edan and Iggy laugh.

"Shut up, book a seat, and start packing, Gingersnap, unless you want to spend the next three days alone with your sister reaming you out over the phone."

"Don't take your worries out on him, Rhys."

Edan fishes out his mobile, searches up the number for the ticket counter.

""He's too lovesick to notice. He's a perfect target.""

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Pete Birkinshaw](https://www.flickr.com/photos/binaryape/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/binaryape/4234970402/in/album-72157623115625480/)
> 
> Another thing to fill in a tiny gap which was a lot of fun to write. snarky!Rhys is an absolute joy.


	23. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann returns to Berlin for the winter holiday to a warm reception from his siblings and a cold one from his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Jingle — MM, 10/5/2022, Tanegashima -

„Manny!“ Dee gathers him close. „Glad you made it. It sounds like everything between here and the coast is shutting down.“

„Lucky me,“ mutters Hermann.

„I know you'd rather be with your friends, but we do what we must, alright?“

Hermann nods against his shoulder.

„Sabine is still banned, by the way, if it helps any.“

„Not really, but thanks for trying.“ Hermann takes a deep breath as they step apart, jams a hand in his pocket, tightens the other around his cane. „What will you do if you want to marry her and Father disapproves?“

Dee shrugs. „Marry her without his approval. I'm an adult and I don't need his permission any more.“

Hermann limps—leg stiff from thirteen hours on the train—toward the exit. „So why do you put up with the ban?“

„Because it's easy for me to leave the house and visit her in the city whenever we want to get together—“ Drapes an arm around Hermann's shoulders. „—and because I **have** to put up with it in order to see you and Bunny.“

Hermann hums, hunches.

They stroll to the taxi stand, quiet.

„Has something changed, Manny?“

Hermann chews his lip, nods.

„Good or bad?“

„Both. I think.“

„You can still tell me anything.“

„Edan and I are dating.“

Dee stops short, squishes Hermann to his chest. „I'm so happy for you!“ Releases him. „From what you've told me, he's a wonderful young man.“

Hermann blushes, puffs up a little.

Dee beams. „Karla will be excited to hear this little tidbit.“

„When's she getting in?“

„She's already at the house.“ Resumes the walk to the taxis. „Bunny'll be asleep by the time we get there, though.“

Hermann nods absently.

Dee shepherds him into a car, gives the driver Father's address.

The cab pulls into traffic and threads its way through city streets.

„Father won't approve,“ says Hermann quietly.

„No, he won't.“ Dee smiles, mischief in his eyes. „So you don't let him know about it.“

Hermann shakes his head.

„I hid Sabine from him for a semester, you know.“ Leans closer. „He **still** doesn't know about Johanna, either.“

„Who?“

„My first girlfriend. We went out for nearly a **year**.“ Grins. „I'm pretty sure Karla's had more dates than he guesses, too.“

Hermann snorts a laugh.

„So we should be able to keep this from him until you're an adult and don't need to listen to him any longer.“

„I hope so.“

The car purrs to a stop at Father's front gate.

Hermann drags himself out, waits on the pavement for Dee to pay and join him.

Dee finishes, leads the way through the gate to the front door, unlocks it, and herds Hermann into the foyer.

He drops his bag, hangs his coat in the closet, tucks his mobile in his trouser pocket, and sets to work on his shoes.

„You made it!“ cheers Karla, strolling up.

Hermann shrugs, arranges his shoes on the rug.

„Give me a hug!“

Hermann does, though it's weak.

„Let's get some food in you,“ says Dee, freeing him from Karla, towing him toward the kitchen. „You've got to be starving after that trip.“ Parks him in a chair at the table.

Hermann thumbs the mobile awake, checks—

Karla drops in across from him. „Any new pictures for me?“

Hermann shrugs.

„Show her the one of your whole crew,“ prompts Dee.

Hermann pokes his way into the photo album, brings up the snapshot Aakash took, slides it over to Karla.

„They're **adorable**!“ she squees. „Who is everyone?“

Hermann leans closer, pointing. „This's Vigsai, Rhys, Edan, and I.“ After a beat of internal struggle. „Edan's my boyfriend.“

Karla beams, lunges, hugs Hermann's head—

He squawks and flails.

—releases him, still glowing. „That's so great! He's a real cutie! Congratulations!“

Hermann sits back down, blushing.

„But don't let Father hear—“

„Don't let me hear what?“

Hermann's heart stops.

„Hear what?“ Father steps closer.

Hermann's eyes flick to the mobile, screen still awake on the table.

Father seizes it, scowls, demands, „Who are they?“

„My friends.“

„Is that all?“

„Yes.“

„You're lying.“

„Father, please—“

„Stay out of this, Dietrich.“

Hermann fights his expression to blandness.

„What have you told them?“

„Nothing,“ declares Hermann. „I'm just their classmate.“

„You're still lying to me. What have you told them?“

„Why do you care so much? He doesn't need to tell you everything about his life.“

Father turns his glare on Karla. „Why shouldn't I hear about his friends?“

Karla meets his look with one of equal force. „Because it's none of your business who Hermann's friends are.“

„Keeping him from getting himself killed **is** my business as his father.“

„I haven't told—“

„ **Quiet.** “

Hermann flinches.

„If your secret is safe—for now—what do you need to keep from me?“

„My friends are my concern, Father.“

He scoffs.

Hermann holds firm.

Father reawakens the mobile, studies the picture again.

Hermann waits, heart sinking.

Father tenses when an idea takes shape. „You plan to court the Asian girl?“ His voice drips contempt and he flicks his eyes to Dee.

Hermann blushes, regroups. „Her family's been in England since the turn of the last century!“

„Father—“

„I told you to stay out of this, Dietrich,“ he snaps. „Hermann, I forbid you to see her again.“

„She's—she's not—she's just a **friend**!“ he protests.

Father's lips curl with disgust. „One of the **boys** has caught your fancy?“

Hermann gets a defiant tilt to his chin.

„You will **not** be returning to that school. You **clearly** cannot be trusted to protect yourself and this family.“

„I—“

„Be **quiet**! You will start at my university after the holiday.“

„I **won't**.“ Hermann slams to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. „I refuse.“

„You have no choice! You'll bring destruction down on yourself **and** us if I let you continue!“

„I will **not** stay here. You can't force—“

„I **can** and I **will**. You are a minor still and you **will** obey. You have no choice.“

„There's always a choice.“

„In dreams, perhaps, but not in the real world.“ Turns away. „I'll have someone pack and return your possessions.“

„I'm going back to England!“

Father whirls. „Hermann.“ His voice is low and deadly cold. „I will not allow you to kill yourself and ruin the rest of us. You will stay in my house where I can protect—“

„You've **never** 'protected' me!“ Hermann shouts. „You've only ever shielded yourself!“

Father steps so close his chest nearly touches Hermann's. „You have no idea what you're talking about, **child**. You don't know the devil with whom your mother bargained to create you—and **I** do—and what he can do to you—to **all** of us—if your deformity is exposed.“

„It can't be worse than being trapped here with you!“

The words hang, nearly visible, in the air for an eternity.

_CRACK_

Hermann's cheek stings from Father's vicious slap.

„Don't **ever** speak to me like that again.“

Hermann glares back through eyes pricking at the corners.

„We will discuss your future after you've regained control of yourself.“ Father turns on his heel and goes.

They all watch him: Dee pale, Karla grinding her teeth, Hermann with blood turning to ice.

„I don't be- **lieve** him,“ hisses Karla.

Hermann collapses into his chair, shaking, gasping for air.

„W-we can find a way to make this work.“ Dee places a gentle hand on Hermann's shoulder. „Long-distance—“

Hermann shrugs him off. „I'm not staying here. Not with him. Not when ....“

„Manny, take a moment to—“

Hermann's back on his feet, blood boiling again. „You don't understand! I'm at the top of my class! I finally have **friends**! I can't— **won't** give that up.“ Glares at Dee. „You've always had those things. Now you have Sabine, too.“ Lets his eyes slide to Dee's shoulder. „I just want what you have.“

Karla sighs, deep and shaky.

Dee runs a hand through his hair. „Let—“ Deep breath. „Let me talk to him before you decide or do **anything** , alright?“

„Alright.“

Hermann grabs his mobile and retreats to his room. He shuts his door, perches on his bed, thumbs the mobile awake.

 **edan_the_red:** Back home!

 **edan_the_red:** Took an early train cuz no reason to stay

 **edan_the_red:** Mums makin us look @ old pix

 **edan_the_red:** Lookit this cool shit

 **edan_the_red:** *shirt

 **edan_the_red:** [_IMG_1087.jpg]

 **edan_the_red:** And this dork

 **edan_the_red:** [_IMG_1322.jpg]

 **edan_the_red:** [_IMG_1142.jpg]

 **edan_the_red:** [_IMG_1084.jpg]

 **edan_the_red:** [_IMG_0653.jpg]

Hermann lingers over the pictures, then wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

 **hermann_g:** I'm back.

 **hermann_g:** Best regards to your family.

Hermann chews his lip—

 **hermann_g:** Miss you already.

—closes his eyes.

A chime.

 **edan_the_red:** Miss u too

 **edan_the_red:** <3

Hermann takes shuddering breath.

 **hermann_g:** <3

He silences the ringer, tucks the mobile in the drawer in his bedside table. He flops flat on his back and stares blankly at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Josh](https://www.flickr.com/photos/edenandjosh/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/edenandjosh/5987284/).
> 
> Okay, I was apparently kidding when I said the previous chapter was the final one. Upon reflection, it made more sense to continue the Hermann-and-Edan saga here than to start a new fic. There may be a few more scenes which are set off to the side like "[Angel Experiment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7689544)" for crediting or POV issues, but, at least until the arrival of Trespasser, all of their stories will be here.
> 
> This would be completely new material, but the basics of it have been in my head since I first started work on this tale a long three years ago. And, yeah, I really despise Lars after this, though he certainly thinks he's doing the best thing possible. The road to hell and all that, I guess.


	24. Pale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his mobile confiscated and facing a future trapped in his father's house, Hermann makes a decision that will haunt everyone for years to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- have to play inside today (19/09/16, Kodiak) -

Father explodes into Hermann's room—

Dee grabs for, misses his arm.

—demands, „Give me your mobile. Now.“

Hermann pushes onto his elbows. „Why—“

„ **Now** , Hermann.“

„I want to know—“

„Because I am your father and I order you to do so.“

Hermann sits up straight, shoulders back, fists tight at his sides. „No.“

„Father—“

„Leave us, Dietrich.“ His eyes remain locked on Hermann's face.

„Father, plea—“

„I said **leave**!“

Dee flinches, slinks out.

„Give. Me. The mobile.“

„No.“ Hermann glares.

Father lunges—

Hermann blocks—

—shoves Hermann into the pillows—

—batters—

—seizes the mobile from the duvet, straightens, tucks it into his back trouser pocket.

—relents, sulks.

Father adjusts his clothes, intones, „Hermann, you will cut off all contact with Britain and your so-called 'friends'. You will remain here for the foreseeable future. I will file the paperwork for your transfer on Monday.“

„My exams are—“

„You'll take them here, if it's allowed. If not—“

„But—“

„—consider it part of your punishment for breaking your promise.“

„I did no such thing. I told **no one**. I **showed** no one. My condition is still my secret.“ Throws himself to his feet. „I deserve to—“

„You are in no position to make demands, Hermann.“

„I worked hard this term. I've **earned** the top position in my programme and **deserve** the credit for my courses.“

„Perhaps losing them will teach you an invaluable lesson.“

„You'd deny me the chance to enhance both your and my reputations as scholars?“

Father sneers. „You've squandered any polish by deciding to be a homosexual—“

„I didn't 'decide' to fall in love.“

„You **decided** to listen to your hormones rather than my counsel and whatever better judgment you have.“

Hermann grits his teeth. „This isn't about **my** love life: it's about **yours**.“ Leans closer. „Just because you couldn't—“

Hermann's cheek burns from Father's slap.

„Don't compare your aberrant desire to something right and natural.“

„I wouldn't **dare**. This is **completely** different,“ taunts Hermann. „We're not bringing unwanted children into—“

Father spits, „I welcomed Dietrich and Karla.“

„Not Bastien and I.“

„Regardless, I have accepted the burden of protecting you. If that requires locking you away from the world, I will not hesitate.“

„Go ahead. I'll contact the authorities and have us removed.“

Father smirks. „Do that at your own peril. I'm sure they will find the results of the inevitable physical exam **fascinating**.“

Hermann lets his gaze slide to the floor.

„Accept your circumstances with dignity, Hermann.“ He snaps a turn on his heel and goes.

Hermann slumps to sit on the edge of the mattress, buries his face in his hands.

Distant shouting.

Father and Karla.

Hermann squeezes his eyes shut against hot, angry tears.

A door slams.

Father's study.

Another.

The front door.

Hermann wobbles to his feet, inhales deeply.

Decides.

He creeps up the stairs to Father's washroom, closes and locks the door.

Studies his reflection in the mirror.

Pale, eyes dark-rimmed, tear tracks on his cheeks.

He looks as askew as he feels.

As **hopeless** as he feels.

Leans heavily on the sink, hands clutching the rim.

"I can't endure this again." Sets his teeth. "I won't endure this again."

He opens the cabinet behind the mirror.

Father's straight razor gleams at him.

"I **won't** endure this again."

He slips the blade into his pocket.

Squares his shoulders, retraces his steps downstairs, sneaks to and out the door into the back garden.

Across the frosty grass to the center.

Eases himself down.

Peels off his jumper.

Folds it, sets it aside.

Unbuttons, slides out of his shirt.

Folds it, sets it aside.

Shivers.

Tugs his tee off over his head.

Folds it, sets it aside.

Unfastens his binder, shrugs it off.

Tosses it away.

Stretches his wings, pushes them through a handful of strong, steady beats.

He brings out the razor, opens it, locks the blade.

For once his thinness and pale skin are blessings: his veins stand out clearly as streets on a map.

Easy to follow, to open with the steel point and a little pressure.

The warmth is pleasant against his chilled arms.

He spreads his wings like a blanket, lays himself down.

Hermann watches the stars and waits.

They twinkle in the crisp air.

Twelve-hundred kilometers away, is Edan watching the same stars?

Somewhere, far in the distance, Karla screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [David](https://www.flickr.com/photos/blakjakdavy/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/blakjakdavy/2612410860/in/photolist-4YRhJy-8EHmFQ-7RnsSJ-fqhZCg-ay2ftw-hooJEF-bUjHmS-nBM1ik-evdnGM-fVi6-byuyb5-8k8jBK-bwQox-8oB6wn-6w7tiT-kpDAko-6RcMEb-5FFvkk-5xs3Np-4sY4V3-41vz1q-KUCSk-81eEjZ-iqcE8C-8j9CNg-qpf9wG-nhDmq6-4dMgPf-87hFXj-qEsvS3-7LXWeq-9g6CWp-e2Htta-ef1PRd-ddErte-5e6Hmb-4XsYpc-9kr3Kt-4mTDje-9fFvZf-4mTDwv-2VcAbB-722HXy-668Twy-cuWGM1-8ME92s-A1xoD-4Z7Ry8-81hPcL-6i1vEP)
> 
> I never planned to actually _write_ this chapter, but the words sorta happened and, well, here it is.


	25. Contagious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann makes a life-changing decision; his siblings discuss the reasons and effects the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- lunch was just as pretty! (01/02/20, Tokyo) -

Bastien wakes up, blinks away the last of sleep. He stretches his arms and pops his back—

Manny's here!

—flings himself out of bed and down the stairs.

Dee steps from the kitchen, waves him over.

Bastien slows down, pads to the table.

Karla's already sitting there, clutching a mug of steaming coffee, sporting dark rings under her eyes like she hasn't slept.

Bastien looks to Dee.

He looks just as tired as he takes the place across from Karla.

Bastien's heart drops and he squeaks, „What's wrong?“

Dee and Karla exchange a look.

Karla nods, 'go ahead'.

„Sit down, please, Bunny,“ Dee says gently.

Bastien climbs into the chair next to him, heart sinking further.

„Manny's sick.“

„I can't catch it, can I?“

„He's not contagious,“ answers Karla, voice hoarse.

„That's good, but, then, what's wrong?“

Dee takes a very, **very** deep breath. „Manny hurt himself very badly last night.“ Wraps his hands around his cup. „He tried to kill himself. He almost did.“

Bastien's heart jumps into his throat and his eyes fill with tears.

„He's alright now, but we'll have to watch him carefully for a while.“

Bastien swallows, nods, wipes his eyes.

Karla and Dee both sip coffee.

„Is ... is this because Mother killed herself?“

Dee startles. „It has nothing to do with that.“

„He tried because Father's making him leave his friends and move back here,“ Karla growls.

Bastien wrinkles his forehead, tries to make sense of that.

„Father's afraid one of his friends will find out about his wings.“

„Why would that make Manny ....?“

„He's never had friends before—“

Bastien's heart **hurts**.

„—and he's in love with one of them,“ says Dee quietly.

„Manny has a girl—“

„Boyfriend.“

„—boyfriend and Father's making him **leave**?“

Karla nods and Dee sighs.

„Because Father's afraid Manny's boyfriend will tell about his wings?“

Dee nods and Karla sighs.

„But if his boyfriend loves Manny, he wouldn't, right?“

„Of course,“ says Karla.

„Father worries love won't be enough to keep Manny safe.“

Bastien puffs out his chest. „Then I will!“ Slides off the chair, plants his feet. „I'll take care of him until he gets better and then I'll go to England with him and make sure no one hurts him or tells.“

Karla laughs.

Dee smiles, but ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair. „Why don't you start by checking if he's awake and, if he is, asking if he needs anything.“

Bastien grunts agreement, marches to Manny's room at the back of the house.

The door's open and blinds and curtains are closed when Bastien peers inside.

Manny sleeps on his stomach, his wings loose and spread across the bed, his face turned away. Next to him, on the sheets ....

Bastien swallows.

Next to Manny, on the sheets, are spots of blood.

And the arm Bastien can see is bandaged almost to his elbow.

Bastien sniffles, wipes away the new tears on his cheeks. Then he straightens up, climbs into the desk chair, spinning it so he has a good view of both Manny and the door, and settles in to keep watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Andrea R](https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrea_r/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrea_r/2650452674/).
> 
> This one borrows bits and pieces from the old tale "[Bastien's Brother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1229275/chapters/2519737)".
> 
> This is the moment I fell in love with Bastien as a character. He's always been useful for telling the story and kinda fun, but this is when he became awesome. Ten years old and going all out to defend his older brother.


	26. There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dietrich and Karla keep watch over a weak and exhausted Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- 「Lots of fish, Churaumi Aquarium, Okinawa (23 July 2013) — Seti」 -

Hermann ....

Hermann lies in bed, wrists burning, head full of cotton wool.

Someone's there.

„„Manny?““

Dee.

He should ask him to leave.

He doesn't care enough to ask him to leave.

„„It's time to change your bandages.““

„Don't bother,“ he croaks.

„„Give me your arm, please, Manny.““

Hermann might move.

Dee's hand on his elbow, pulling his arm away from his body, then his fingers tease the sodden wrappings away from his skin.

Wet heat as fresh blood drips.

Maybe he'll lose enough this time.

But Dee works quickly, finishes both wrists.

Hermann's still alive.

He shouldn't be this disappointed.

Dee cards his hair.

He sighs, lets himself fall back to sleep.

Hermann ....

Hermann lies in bed, wrists burning, head full of cotton wool.

He's cold and shuffles his wings to better cover himself.

The blankets inch farther up his back, too.

Someone's there.

„„I'm sorry, you know.““

Karla.

He should ask her to leave.

He doesn't care enough to ask her to leave.

Instead, he says, „About what?“

„„I'm sorry about the 'bluebird' thing.““

Oh. That.

„„I was awful to you and I'm sorry.““

„It was nothing.“

„„It was **something**. I shouldn't have added to ... to your problems.““

„You're forgiven.“

„„Thank you, Manny.““

„If I weren't a monster, you wouldn't have—“

„„Listen! You're **not** a monster and Father is **always** wrong about you.““

„That doesn't matter. I still am.“ Tucks his wings closer to his back. „Anyone can see it.“

„„Feathers don't mean you're a monster.““

„They mean I'll never be normal.“ His eyes prick and he hates himself for it.

Karla, silent, strokes his wings.

„I was lying to myself before. No one who knows could ever love me.“

Karla takes her hand back. „„I love you! Bunny and Dee love you!““

Hermann sniffs.

„„Someday, when you get away from Father, you'll find someone you can trust and who'll love you for **you**.““

Hermann's pillow is damp.

„Karla. I might already have.“ Swallows. „Now I'll never find out.“

„„There's more than one boy in the world, Manny.““

„I'm not you.“

„„What's that supposed to mean?““

„I'm not pretty or flirty or the sort of per—creature—“

„„Stop calling yourself that!““

Hermann sighs. „I don't attract dates.“

„„Your first chance to meet people you found someone, Manny. You have any **idea** how many clubs and meetings and taverns I have to visit to find someone decent?““ There's a smile in her voice. „„Who knows how many there will be the next time you get out.““

„They won't be him.“

„„Maybe not.““ Karla strokes along the length of his wing. „„They might be even more lovely.““

Hermann doubts it, but he's too tired to argue.

Karla moves on to carding his his hair.

He sighs, lets himself fall back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [cipher](https://www.flickr.com/photos/h4ck/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/h4ck/10738271475/).
> 
> This incorporates ideas from [puff22_2001's "The Parrot and the Owl"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1219732).
> 
> I pretty much hate this chapter, not because of something about how it's written, but because of the subject manner. I've had days like this (minus the suicide attempt) and feel it down in my soul.


	27. Mental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Hermann recovers in Berlin, Edan's beside himself with worry in Scotland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 December 2005  
> Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1262.jpg [Sign, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Fen-fen takes two steps into the arrivals area and falls to her knees, presses her forehead to the floor, mumbles, "Praise the sweet baby Jesus we made it."

Edan gazes heavenward. "It wasn't that bad," he sighs.

She sits back on her heels. "Yes, yes it was." Hauls herself to her feet, dusts off her trousers. "It was really, **really** bad."

Edan slouches, squeaks off toward the nearest empty bench.

Fen-fen pursues. "Seriously bad. Where the **fuck** was your head that entire while?"

"On my shoulders."

"If it was empty of your brain, maybe." Grabs his arm, spins him around. "You're a piss-poor driver, but **that** was the worst trip yet."

Edan shakes her off, grumps, "The weather's crap. What d'ye expect?"

Hands braced on hips, head cocked. "You not to nearly kill us? That was almost, like, three head-on crashes, two hedges, a sideswipe, a wall, and a near-miss on either a sheep or a small man in a sheepskin coat in less than an **hour**."

He shifts his feet, ruffles melted snow from his hair. "Fine. You drive back."

Fen-fen holds out a hand—

Edan rolls his eyes, digs the key to the hire car from his pocket—

—tucks it into her bra.

—huffs. "It wasn't that bad."

"Edan, you're lucky you didn't kill us."

He deflates onto a bench.

Fen-fen plunks down beside him.

He sighs mightily.

"What's got you so lost inside that thick skull of yours?"

Edan lets his head fall back, his eyes flutter shut. "He's not answering calls or texts."

"Ye ever think he could just be busy with family things?"

"Too busy to text?"

"Travel?"

Edan scoffs.

"So what do you figure it is?" she sighs.

"He's thought about it and's decided he wants **nothin'** to do with me," he mumbles.

"Despite your driving, you're not a bad a catch."

"Big praise coming from my **sister**."

"As a person who's dated a lot of losers, I assure you you're not one."

"Maybe, but he's **amazing**. I'm **nothing** —hey!" Rubs the back of his head.

"Maybe it has **everything** to do with the fact he's a sixteen-year-old **kid** and they don't know what's going on for the hormones and **nothing** to do with you."

"He acts more mature than I do."

"Yea, so did I at sixteen and ye know where that got me."

Edan sags. "He's not like us. He's a better class of person."

Impact to the back of his head.

"Oi! What was—"

"I'm gonna beat that attitude outta you if I hafta kill you."

"Fen-fen ...."

"Posh people're only posh 'coz families like ours do the **real** work."

"I can't name anyone in my year at uni with a family record like ours."

"Because they grew up in a fucking money-bubble and rode the escalator to uni." Pokes Edan's temple. "You **dragged** yourself there with that big brain of yours."

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"You should knock off fakin' your accent, too. Be proud of your roots."

"It barely counts as 'faking' anymore," mumbles Edan.

"But it's right there when you drop the act."

"It was bad enough in those honours classes; I don't need the shit that comes with being a working class Scot at an English university."

"A working class Scot near the top of your damn class."

"They laughed at my 'fake' accent every first session, Fen-fen."

"Maybe 'coz it's—"

"'coz it's **Scottish**." Opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling. "Hermann's the only other one I heard get snickers. They even left the guy from Yorkshire alone." Sides-eyes Fen-fen. "Hermann sounds all BBC now, though."

Fen-fen grunts.

"Folks still peg me as a Weegie."

"At least there's that."

"Yea—" Lifts his head. "—I tried for Estuary, but I couldn't get all the Glasgow out."

"'course not," she sniffs. "'s like a bad smell, 'pparently."

Edan sighs.

Fen-fen huffs, crosses her arms.

"When's Dad's plane get in again?"

"Seventeen hundred, if the weather cooperates."

"Which it's not."

"Nope."

Edan heaves himself to his feet.

"Where're you going?"

"To find a quiet corner and try calling again."

Fen-fen rolls her eyes.

Edan hunches his shoulders, plods off, finds a phone cubby without much trouble, tucks himself inside. He takes a deep breath, digs out his mobile, makes the connection.

Five rings and the default voicemail message plays.

Again.

"H-hey, Hermann. It's Edan, again." Swallows. "Whatever I did to scare you, I'm sorry. I-I don't—" Deep shaky breath. "If you don't want to be my boyfriend, it's alright. Just ... just call me, text me, let me know. **Please.** I'm going absolutely **mental** worrying something's happened to you. So, yea, please ring me back. Any time. Thanks, Hermann. L-love you."

He disconnects, sets the mobile on the little shelf, folds his arms, and drops his head on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [the justified sinner](https://www.flickr.com/photos/the_justified_sinner/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/the_justified_sinner/4414461911/in/photolist-7J6gJg-bgGkTn-75YaQM-4SG6JC-7Ja9JL-6xpdxq-4FxE42-AhA5QW-7Yg1wM-7Yj7Pw-5gonB6-7Ygjd8-7Yg7eB-S33N7-7YSgVW-4FBEQ9-7YfZni-4SwD3k-7Yj3Bo-7Yj4SC-7YfQUZ-7Yjpr7-7Jc277-6xk3bP-8G2oSt-4FxPC4-dutWtr-8G5Fj5-4FBvyC-4Fxqwn-dutV6a-7oo4bL-8G5DXy-6DJTtV-4FxBdp-duzsaw-6xk38T-duzrhu-8G2sjp-7J67vn-4FxieX-6xk3EH-8G5BW7-dutXjr-8G5xRu-8G5AvG-PnJZg-4FxN9g-762Wid-4FxMje)
> 
> Meet Edan's insecurities and his driving 'skills'.
> 
> Fenella's comment about sheep is a rip-off from [this George Carlin bit](https://youtu.be/E2caeqIOsyw).


	28. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann lashes out at Dietrich for saving his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- thought about a jailbreak (12/02/21, Hong Kong) -

Dietrich peeks into Manny's room for his quarter-hourly check.

He's hunched over, face pressed to his raised knees, hands clawing at his nape, wings lying limp over his shoulders.

Dietrich crosses the room, perches on the edge of the mattress. „Manny?“

„„He keeps calling!““ he wails. „„I can hear my mobile through the wall.““

Dietrich swallows. „I'm sorry. I wish—“

„„I can't live like this, Dee. I can't.““

„Yes, you can.“

„„I can't I can't I can't,““ he sobs, rocking. „„I can't do this anymore.““

„You can. You will.“

„„I can't! I'm supposed to be free now! Uni was supposed to be the end of Father's—““ A gasp chokes off his words.

Dietrich smooths his hair. „I'm sorry, Manny. I tried to talk to him—Karla, too—but ....“ Deep breath. „He won't change his mind. I'm—“

„„I escaped! I was almost—““ He jerks his head up, turns reddened eyes on Dietrich. „Why did you stop me?“

„Because we love you, Manny.“

Manny glares his hardest. „If you loved me, you'd have let me die.“

„You can endure this. You're tougher than this.“

„What if I'm tired of enduring?“ Scrubs viciously at the tear tracks on his cheeks. „What if I actually want to **live**?“

„It's only a little longer. You can do it.“

Manny droops, shakes his head. „Dee, it was 'only a little longer' before I left for England.“

„Maybe he'll relax after a semester or two and let you go back.“

„You **know** that's not true. I'm trapped here until I graduate, at **least**.“

„If you do what he says, there's a chance—“

„I'm bloody **sick** of waiting on the **chance** something will happen!“ The fire is back. „Five months! I was only free **five** **months** and now I'm trapped here another three **years**! All because I let myself think I was normal for **once** in my god-awful life!“

„Manny, it'll—“

„It's **never** going to get better!“ All the energy drains out of him. „Zoo animals have more of a life than I do. Maybe I should give myself—“

„Don't. Please.“

„Dee, I'm a monster.“ He drops his head to his knees. „„I don't belong anywhere.““

Dietrich wraps Manny in a gentle hug, carefully threading his arms under Manny's sagging wings, whispers against his hair, „You're my little brother and you belong right here with me.“

Manny hiccups, buries his face in Dietrich's chest.

Dietrich holds him close, ignoring the damp patches spreading slowly across his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [ewar woowar](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ewarwoowar/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ewarwoowar/3022027603/).
> 
> This chapter borrows heavily from the old "[Dietrich's Brother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1229275/chapters/2519803)".
> 
> Yeah ... another angsty chapter, but I guess that's what happens when I character does his level best to kill himself. Thankfully, it gets a little brighter soon.


	29. Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's siblings (*cough*Bastien*cough*) discover a hole in their father's surveillance net which just _might_ keep Hermann and Edan together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- ready for the cookie walk~! (18/12/15, Koffiefontein) -

Dietrich settles himself cross-legged on the guest room bed, while Karla and Bastien watch from the chair and the floor, respectively. He takes a deep breath and pokes Manny's mobile to reconnect to the last caller.

It barely completes a single ring.

""Oh, thank **God** , Hermann! It's been **four** **days** , mate!"" yelps a young voice.

At least, that's what Dietrich **thinks** he said.

""Is everything alright?""

"Edan, this is Hermann's brother Dietrich," he says, enunciating each word.

""Diet ... what? Where's Hermann? Did something happen to him?"" There's rising panic in his voice.

"He's alright now, but he was badly hurt the night he arrived."

Edan squeaks. "I-i-is he okay?"

"He'll heal fully in time."

""What happened?""

"It was an accident and he lost a lot of blood. He'll be fine once he gets his strength back up."

""Jesus."" A deep, shaky breath. ""I guess that's ... good?""

"As good as we can hope for." Dietrich steels himself. "But he won't be returning to England after the holiday."

""What?! Why not?!""

"Our father has already withdrawn him from Manchester and enrolled him in a Berlin college." Grits his teeth. "He feels it is in Hermann's best interest to make this transfer."

""Of all the fucking **stu** -pid—""

The rest of Edan's commentary vanishes in a flood of gibberish that's probably Scottish invective, the mildest bit of which sounds like 'absolute fucking doughnut'.

Dietrich chuckles despite himself.

Karla and Bastien raise eyebrows.

He waves, 'later'.

""Is Hermann alright with this?""

"No, he's not. He and our father had quite a fight about it and my sister and I tried to convince Father otherwise, but he won't be persuaded."

""Why ...?"" A pained beat. ""Is this about ... is this because ... did he tell you about me? And him?""

"He did. My sister and brother and I were overjoyed you found each other."

Thumbs up from Karla and Bastien.

""But not your dad, yea?"" sighs Edan.

"Not our father, no," agrees Dietrich. "He's very conservative with regards to relationships—"

""Like you and your girlfriend, yea? Hermann, uh, mentioned it.""

"Exactly like that, but this decision is about keeping Hermann close to home. Father is—" Fights down the contempt in his voice. "—he's very protective of Hermann."

""He doesn't need to protect Hermann! He was doing a fine job on his own!""

Dietrich sighs, "I know."

""He didn't get hurt 'til after he got back there! He was safer with us!""

"Edan, I know. Our father, though, is not a reasonable man where Hermann is concerned."

More colourful cursing.

"I'm sorry, Edan. I truly am."

""So ...."" A beat. ""So what happens now?""

"Now—" Dietrich grins. "—because our Father is monitoring Hermann's email and mobile—you court each other the **really** old-fashioned way."

""Wha?""

"I'm afraid the only safe way for you to communicate is through the post. Honest-to-goodness letters."

A beat.

""Is this a joke?""

"No, it really is the only way you two can have contact until Hermann's eighteenth birthday without getting yourselves in trouble."

""Right, then."" Something shuffles. ""Where do I send 'em?""

Dietrich gives the address, adds, "Address them to 'Hermione Bachar'."

Karla guffaws; Bastien _shush_ es her.

Edan snorts. ""He pick that _nom de guerre_?""

"It's my contribution."

A laugh, a _skreeek_ , more shuffling, and a mild insult of some sort.

"What's that sound?"

""I'm trying to put on my coat without hanging up. I'm heading to the stationer's **right** **now**.""

Dietrich laughs.

""You want my details?""

Dietrich makes grabby hands for the pen and paper on the table. "Just a moment."

Bastien hands them over.

"Go."

Edan rattles off addresses in Glasgow and Manchester.

"Got them."

""Brilliant."" A puff. ""Now, I need to run— **literally** run—if I want to make it, so you take care of Hermann for me until I see him again and tell him I love him, yea?""

"I will."

""Thanks, mate.""

The call disconnects.

Dietrich tucks the mobile in one trouser pocket, the note in the other, beams at Karla and Bastien.

„Sounds like that went well?“

„Better than I had any right to hope. He's off to buy paper right now.“

„Perfect,“ smiles Karla.

„Why were you laughing?“ asks Bastien.

„Well, the second time was because he was trying to talk and dress for the shop at the same time; the first time because he called Father some names I'm not sure I understood.“

„Like what?“

„When you're older, Bunny.“

„Awww ....“

„I'm going to put this—“ Pats his pocket. „—back where I found it, then I'll tell Manny the plan.“

„What about us?“

Dietrich pushes to his feet, ruffles Bastien's hair. „I dunno, fly casual.“

„„Dork,““ teases Karla.

Dietrich waves over his shoulder, tiptoes down the stairs and into Father's office, returns Manny's mobile to its 'hiding' place on the bookshelf.

He pads quickly to the back bedroom, raps on the doorframe, calls, „Manny?“

Manny, face-down in his pillow, wings drooping off the edge of his mattress, grunts.

Dietrich slips inside, closes the door behind, pulls the chair over to bedside, and sits.

„„What do you want.““

„I have some good news for you.“

„„Unless Father's changed his mind, fuck off.““

Dietrich asks the ceiling for patience. „We figured out a way you and Edan can keep talking.“

Manny scoffs.

„Seriously, Manny, this'll work.“

Manny drags his head around to face Dietrich, sighs, „Father's watching **everything**.“

„Bunny found a loophole.“

„Really.“

„Really,“ assures Dietrich. „You'll write letters.“

Manny objects—blinks. „That **will** work.“

„I know. Bunny's a genius.“

„Wait. How will I **get** letters? Father's—“

„He's sending them to Sabine and she or I will bring them to campus. She'll hold them for you until you move out of here, too. Like Bunny said, Father will **never** look for them there.“

Manny blinks tearing eyes, croaks, „Thank you so much.“

„Thank Bunny for the idea.“

„I'll do that.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [The Bees](https://www.flickr.com/photos/thebees/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/thebees/5255988222/).
> 
> Parts of this chapter come from "[Heartbreaker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1265383)".
> 
> All credit and glory to artificiallifecreator for finding the loophole in Lars' cunning plan to isolate Hermann which has allowed this story to take a distinctly different path than it did in Version 1.0.


	30. Interlude: Polite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karla and Bastien take a brief shopping trip and encounter a local rumour-miller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- ready for class! (20/01/19, Sydney) -

Karla strides along the pavement, bundled up tight against the cold and arms full of groceries.

Bastien skips along beside her. „Do you think Manny will like what I picked out?“

„He'll **love** it.“ Grins down at him. „How could he resist anything so **sweet**?“

Bastien glows.

„„Hey! Gottliebchen!““

Karla stops mid-step.

Bastien gives a fantastic eye-roll.

„Is that Andreas Meyer?“

Bastien double-checks over his shoulder. „Yea.“

„Is he still a jerk?“

„Yea,“ sighs Bastien.

„Fan **tas** tic.“

Meyer materializes next to her, grabs hold of her arm, smarms, „It's good to see you again.“

She twists free, expression darkening toward 'imminent mass extinction'.

Meyer, though, plows on, smirking. „I hear your crippled featherweight of a brother got himself kicked out of England.“ Crosses his arms, rocks on his heels. „Couldn't handle life without Daddy to hide behind and had to come crawling back with his tail between his legs? There's even talk along the street he tried to put himself out of his misery. Probably for the best—“

Bastien—

Karla nudges him behind her.

„—if he'd managed it,“ he laughs.

Karla grits her teeth. „Bastien.“ Twists, offers the bag. „Hold this.“

Bastien accepts, shuffles a little farther along the pavement.

Meyer raises an eyebrow.

Karla turns a black-eyed stare on him, sinks a vicious jab in his gut.

Meyer drops like a sack of sand, wheezing.

With a snort and before Meyer can even begin to catch his breath, Karla whirls, takes the groceries back from Bastien, and stomps away.

Half a block later, on the front steps of the house, she growls, „Who could've told him about Manny?“

Bastien ponders. „Probably Mrs Koch, Father's housekeeper. She never **stops** talking.“

Karla hums, works the lock, herds Bastien inside. „Then she and I are going to have a 'polite' chat about gossiping.“

„After ice cream?“

„After ice cream.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Marceline Smith](https://www.flickr.com/photos/diskant/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/diskant/15019569868/in/album-72157665546943100/).
> 
> Based on "[Karla's Brother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1229275/chapters/2519818)".
> 
> Ah, Karla. Your bad attitude _does_ come in handy sometimes. I wish my muse for her visited more often because what I do get from her fascinates me.


	31. Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hermann slowly recovers, Bastien helps with ice cream and _Harry Potter_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 December 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- SALAMANDASTRON!!!! #coryrossishere // REDWAAAALLLL!!!! - 7. (2011 June 08, London-ish) -

Bastien helps Karla put away the groceries, then peeks into Manny's room.

„Hi,“ Manny croaks, sitting in bed with his back against the headboard.

„Hi! Karla wants to know if you'd like something to eat?“

„I'm not really hungry, but thank her for me.“

„You're **sure**?“

„I'm sure.“

Bastien shuffles over, perches on the foot of the bed. „You're feeling better?“

„A bit.“ A crooked smile. „I can sit up without getting dizzy now.“

„That's cool.“ Bastien picks at the quilt.

Manny shivers, folds his wings around his shoulders.

„Can I get you a blanket?“

„Yes, please.“ Rubs his arms.

Bastien hurries to the linen cabinet, grabs an armful, rushes back, passes the thickest to Manny.

He tucks the quilt around his chest and under his arms. „Thank you.“ Sighs. „I just can't seem to get warm.“

„You're really pale,“ mumbles Bastien, climbing back onto the mattress, „like a ghost.“

„I'm always pale, Bunny.“

„Not like this.“

Manny's shrug turns into another shiver.

„Another blanket?“

„I'll be fine in a moment.“

Bastien traces the quilt's stitching with his finger. „Manny?“

„Hmm?“

„Why does Father hate you so much?“

Manny blinks at him. „Why do you think he hates me?“

„Because he's making you come back for having friends.“

„That's not why,“ sighs Manny.

„And he took away your mobile and won't let you talk to your boyfriend.“

„Bunny ... he won't give you a mobile or let you on the internet or stay over with friends, either.“ Takes a deep breath. „It's just the way Father is.“

Bastien chews his lip. „It seems worse for you, though.“

„He's more worried about me because of my wings. I could really be hurt if the wrong people found out about them.“

„Is your boyfriend a wrong person?“

Manny chews his lip. „I don't think so, but Father's not so sure.“

„Sorry to interrupt,“ says Dee, walking in, „but it's time to change your bandages.“

Manny heaves a sigh, digs his arms from under the blankets.

Dee unwinds the gauze.

Manny closes his eyes, raises his chin.

Bastien's stomach crawls into his throat.

The deep cut still oozes blood.

Dee swabs it with alcohol-soaked cotton

Tears creep from the corners of Manny's eyes; his wings jerk and twitch.

„Does it hurt?“ Bastien immediately claps his hands over his mouth.

„Yes. It stings,“ rasps Manny.

„You need ice cream! That'll make you feel better!“

„Sure, Bunny.“

Bastien sprints from the room—trying very hard to forget the blood on Manny's arm—to the kitchen. He pulls down the bowls, digs out the spoons and ice cream scoop, and gets the ice cream from the freezer. He heaps the bowls with as much creamy goodness as they can hold, then loads them on the tea tray and walks carefully back to Manny's room.

Dee looks up from putting his supplies away.

Manny tugs the quilt higher against his chest.

„French vanilla~! Your favourite!“

Manny smiles a little and scootches over to make room.

Dee ruffles Bastien's hair and leaves.

„Thank you,“ says Manny, accepting his bowl and spoon.

„You're welcome.“ Bastien tucks up against his side and digs in.

They eat quietly and, soon, all the ice cream is gone.

„Do you feel better now?“

„A little. The good food's making me sleepy, though.“

„Should I leave so you can nap?“

Manny thinks a moment. „Why don't you get us another serving and a movie we can watch together?“

Bastien lights up, grabs the empty bowls, and flails off to the sitting room for Harry Potter movies, then the kitchen. He fishes the ice cream back out and closes the freezer.

Karla's there with her arms crossed, giving him a Look.

„Hi, Karla.“

„Bunny, did you give all that ice cream to Manny?“

„I had some, too?“

„And you're coming back for more?“

„Manny asked for it?“

Karla huffs. „I'll scoop this time.“

Bastien tucks the movies under his arm, pouts.

„That doesn't work on me.“

Bastien pouts harder.

„Here you go.“ She hands him bowls less than half as full as before.

„Thanks,“ sighs Bastien.

„None of that attitude.“

„Yes, Karla.“ He retraces his steps to Manny, passes him the food, then loads _The Sorcerer's Stone_ into the DVD player and turns on the TV. He hops onto the mattress, sets the remote between them, and tucks into his ice cream.

They eat quietly.

„Hey, Manny, what Houses do you think we'd be Sorted into?“ asks Bastien when the Sorting scene starts.

Manny pauses the movie, declares, „Dee definitely belongs in Hufflepuff.“

„Yes! And Father's **definitely** Slytherin.“

„Obviously.“

„Karla's Gryffindor, I think.“

„I think so, too.“

„What about me?“

„You're another Gryffindor. **Definitely.** “

Bastien sits up straighter. „Thank you! I think you're a Gryffindor, too.“

Manny wrinkles his forehead. „I'm not so sure. I feel I might belong in Ravenclaw.“

„You **are** really smart,“ concedes Bastien, „ **but** you're also really brave.“

„I don't feel particularly brave.“

„Manny, you went to a whole other **country** for school. That's **super** -brave.“

„It's really not. Karla went to Switzerland and at least a third of her and Dee's classmates left Germany for school.“

„Dee didn't and Switzerland doesn't count.“

„The programs they wanted were available close by; mine was—“ Manny swallows, squeezes his eyes closed.

Bastien heart twitches. „Manny?“ he squeaks. „Are you ever going to feel better? Are you going to kill yourself?“

Manny makes a choking noise.

Bastien rushes on. „I don't want you to die and leave me forever.“ He sniffles, bites down on a sob.

„I'm not leaving you,“ Hermann whispers as he pulls him close. „I made a mistake the other night and I'll never make it again. I'm here to stay. We'll help each other, alright?“

Bastien nods against Manny's chest as Manny folds his wings around the both like a warm cocoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [Ian Usher](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ush/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ush/5947359859/in/album-72157627092961355/).
> 
> A revamp of "[French Vanilla](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1501787)".
> 
> Little Bastien just breaks my heart. He wants so _badly_ for his family to be happy and safe and he tries so _hard_ to make it happen, but it just _can't_ work out for him and it's not his fault. I want all the good things in the world for him.
> 
> Unfortunately, I'm also _me_ so he's gonna have to suffer quite a bit, too.


	32. Bad Example

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of separation from Hermann sets in for Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2005  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1738.jpg [portion of Another Place by Sir Antony Gormley, Liverpool, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan lies on his bed, starfish-like, face buried in his pillow.

Impact to the back of his head.

""Oi. Beaker.""

Mighty comfy, this pillow.

""Mum wants you downstairs sharpish.""

Yep, **mighty** comfy.

""And there's a giant duck rampaging down the lane.""

Could almost sleep like this.

""And there's a comet heading this way.""

Edan scoffs.

""You're killing brain cells with lack of air.""

Maybe that'll help.

Fen-fen prods his shoulder. ""Get up, Danny-boy. Mum's gettin' worried about ye.""

Edan sighs.

""You posted your letter, yea?""

Edan grunts an affirmative.

""Then you've done all you can.""

He whines.

""If he doesn't write back, there's other boys in the sea.""

Edan whines harder.

""Fuck's sake, Beaker, this isn't doing a thing for your attractiveness.""

Not that it matters.

""You're startin' to remind me of Andrew.""

Edan pushes up on his elbows, growls, "I'm **nothin'** like that bag of mangy stoats."

Fen-fen pats his head. "'course you're not, but it got you up, ay?"

Edan flops—

Fen-fen grabs hold of his hair—

" **Yeowch!** Leggo!"

—holds him upright. "You're **staying** up, little brother mine."

"Leggo, please, Fen-fen!"

She releases him.

Edan rubs his scalp. "That was **completely** unfair."

"Love and war, yea?"

"Which's this?"

"Both."

Edan scowls.

Fen-fen smiles her sweetest, slides to her feet, drops Edan's mobile on the bed. "Call Swansea. He's been ringin' all morning."

"Thanks," he sighs.

Fen-fen waves her fingers, saunters out, closes the door behind.

Edan scrubs at his face with both hands, heaves a tremendous sigh. He side-eyes the phone, picks it up, pokes Rhys' contact.

""Greetings, Gingersnap.""

"'ey." Edan flops—onto his back this time.

""Was starting to think you'd run away to the Continent.""

"I wish."

""Trouble in paradise?""

Edan whines.

""Don't tell me you've **already** broken up.""

"Might as well have."

A longish beat.

""Fine, I'll bite. What happened?""

"His dad decided he didn't want a gay son and won't let him come back. He's fuckin' stuck in Berlin 'til eighteen and the old dickbag's ordered us not to talk."

Rhys grunts. ""Too bad he's not a fellow Scot, ay? Premature age of majority and all that.""

Edan sighs. "Yea, and fuck partnership and parental consent laws, too."

""You're actually thinking about **marrying** the kid?""

"What better way to get him back to Britain?"

""Kidnapping? A well-reasoned argument?"" An audible eye roll. ""For Sauron's sake, he's a bloody **child**.""

"'s the same age my parents were when they—"

""Which, if I remember your story right, worked out **brilliantly** for them.""

"Alright. Bad example," grumbles Edan.

""No kidding."" Rhys huffs. ""Hold up. 'Didn't want a gay son'? Isn't that—""

"Yes," Edan grits out.

Rhys whistles. ""Word of advice: don't take this as a test case for that one, yea? It'll likely only end in tears all 'round.""

Edan sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "I know. I'm keeping 'em separate. It's hard enough dealing with this latest."

""Good plan. One locus of suffering at a time.""

Edan frowns. "What does this have to do with bugs?"

""Why do I bother with you science people?"" sighs Rhys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Colin Poellot](https://www.flickr.com/photos/colinpoe/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/colinpoe/2763253833/)
> 
> Because pining is one of my jams.


	33. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann accompanies Dietrich to Sabine's and receives a welcome surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 January 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- tiny walled gardens (07/11/06, Koffiefontein) -

Dee says—

Hermann startles, bangs his head on the bus window.

—winces, „Sorry.“

Hermann rubs his temple.

„Thanks for helping me with this.“

„You're lucky Father let me leave the house.“

„He doesn't want to hold you prisoner.“

„Could've fooled me.“ Hermann turns his attention back to the street rolling by.

Dee sighs.

Hermann stares, unseeing.

Dee allows them to make the rest of the trip in silence.

They climb down at Sabine's stop and Hermann shivers despite the bright sunshine and wearing a heavy coat, two jumpers, a shirt, an undershirt, and his binding.

His wings try to fluff themselves to trap more warmth, so Hermann rolls his shoulders, covers a pause to steady himself with, „Why, exactly, does Sabine need my help?“

Dee shrugs. „She just said it would take both of us.“

Hermann grunts, hobbles for Sabine's.

Dee catches up in two steps, then matches pace. When they reach the building, he rings the bell and opens the door for Hermann when the lock buzzes.

To the lift, up to her floor.

The door's ajar.

Dee pushes it open, pokes his top half inside. „Sabine?“

„„In the kitchen~!““

„After you.“

Hermann grumps off.

„Tahdah~!“ cheers Sabine, flourishing toward the table.

„It's a box. Hurrah.“

„It's not just **any** box,“ pouts Sabine.

„Look inside.“ Dee steers him to a chair, gently pushes him down.

Hermann sighs, lifts the lid, peers inside. Looks up—

Sabine and Dee grin like asylum escapees.

—raises an eyebrow. „Pixie stationery?“

„Bunny picked it out.“

„Of course he did.“ Hermann closes—

„Look underneath!“

Hermann rolls his eyes, gathers the paper, sets it—squeaks.

Square, familiar, **glorious** handwriting, but ....

„'Hermione'?“

„That was my idea,“ says Dee, preening. „It's your cover identity.“

Hermann blinks.

Dee and Sabine beam.

Hermann shakes his head clearer, heart fluttering, carefully picks up the envelope, tears into it, slides out several sheets of paper with shaky fingers.

Paper decorated with cupcakes.

Dee snorts a laugh.

„„C'mon, love, let's give him some privacy. And I really **do** need your help.““

Cupcake pages **covered** with Edan's words.

„„To do what?““

„„Move furniture.““

A groan and footsteps fade as Hermann smooths the letter against the tablecloth.

Hermann!

Are you alright? What happened?

~~Det~~ Your brother says there was an accident and you were hurt.

Please tell me you're alright.

It's breaking my heart to think you're stuck in that house you hate without me and Rhys and Iggy to cheer you up and spoil you properly while you get better.

Hermann wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

And this letter thing? I wish there was something better, but I guess we're stuck with it. I don't want to cause you any trouble and—I really want to see you again but I also really don't fancy going to jail, which's where your brother hinted I might wind up if your dad caught me. One night in a cell was enough, so I'll be on my best behaviour.

I keep replaying that last day together in my head. I can't think of many times I've been happier. If I think hard enough, I can still feel your hand in mine and your breath against my ear. And, well, your lips

That sounds stalker-y doesn't it?

Shit.

I'm not stalking, I'm just love-struck.

Wait.

A stalker would say that.

...

Let's try small talk, yea?

So ... there are still stars in the sky and I'm hoping to get up the mountain next week to make sure the view's still brilliant.

Dear God the Christmas tree is huge. I'm still not sure how they got it through the door or what the Hell forest God they stole it from. I'm also kind of afraid it actually is a forest God and it'll eat us in our sleep if it can fit itself up the steps.

Fen-fen has another new boyfriend, but this one's not on conditions so he's a bit of a step up from the last.

Trinity got promoted to assistant manager and her ego barely fits in her car anymore.

Dad's scheduled to head out most of the way to Norway after Christmas so he's sticking to us like glue trying to get in as much togetherness as he can.

Mum's ranting almost nonstop about overprotective parents as usual.

Hermann takes a moment to breathe and blink away a fresh round of tears.

The neighbourhood assbaskets still harass me for being a ginger nerd, but I'm happy to report I can still outrun them, even on snow!

Hermann chuckles.

Grandma gave me pink socks again! I could outfit a regiment of princesses (with big feet!) from my sock drawer now. Dad's been trying to convince me for years it's her way of saying she's cool with me being gay. I think she just wishes I was another girl since I'm the last grandkid she's going to get.

I could really go for some rainbow striped ones if she wants to send a message of solidarity. I'd settle for argyle and a hug.

Kind of like how I'm settling for this letter in place of rushing right over—it's only 2 hours by plane!—and feeding you curries and rich soups and ice cream until you feel better.

Maybe a couple of nights locked up wouldn't be too bad because this missing you hurts. Right now, I'd risk it for a few minutes of stargazing and holding your hand.

But I don't want to cause you problems with your dad, so I'll be good and stay off the Continent and write more of these silly things and count days until your 18th.

537 days to go.

We can do this.

Love,  
Edan

Glasgow  
20 Dec. '05

Hermann takes a shuddery breath, sags back in his seat, ignoring the pressure it puts on his wings, lets his head fall back and his eyes shut.

_BANG_

Hermann jumps.

„„ **Shit!** That was my **foot**!““

Hermann sighs, sits straighter, pulls over the pixie-coated paper and the ... matching pen.

3 Jan 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

I realize as I start this I've never written a proper letter—to anyone—before, so please forgive any awkwardness.

I'm alright. Tired, but alright. My injuries have mostly healed already.

Please don't worry about me.

I've spent most of the last fortnight in bed and today's the first day I've felt well enough to leave the house. (I'm writing this at Sabine's kitchen table on paper Bastien picked out. I'm fairly certain the fairies aren't some sort of coded message.)

I'd rather be in Manchester.

~~Never seeing you again~~ Not seeing you or hearing your voice for another year and a half at least ... I don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I guess communicating like this is better than nothing, but it feels so  distant and uncertain. Anything could happen to you and I wouldn't know about it for days or weeks.

My father would certainly be unhappy in a demonstrative way were he to find we are communicating, so please remain on your side of the Channel, for both our sakes.

Hermann takes a deep breath.

I wish it could be different.

A wing twitches and he silently curses the damn things, shuffles them as best he can under the binder.

Christmas here was a subdued affair, for obvious reasons.

Dietrich did his best to keep the peace, but Karla and Father glared at each other the entire time.

She's already returned to Montreal.

Bastien's appointed himself my protector and rarely lets me out of his sight.

Hermann snorts a little laugh.

If he could cocoon me in bubble wrap, he would, I think.

Father forbade my grandparents from visiting, but they've vowed to come down at the next opportunity and sent me the warmest, softest jumpers I've ever touched and several pairs of thick socks. Bastien assures me they're tasteful, subtle colours.

Normally, I'd be disappointed with clothing instead of books, but it's so cold here.

Hermann lifts his pen, taps it against his chin.

Perhaps you can send suggestions for music to add to my collection so, in some sideways way, I can hear your voice.

That sounds creepy, doesn't it?

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be clingy or needy or ... whatever, but I've been ~~worrying~~ thinking about you since the moment you were out of my sight. There isn't much to do when you're too tired to get out of bed after you've counted every mark and shadow on the ceiling  beside obsess.

That's even cree—

Hermann smiles, wryly.

You're right.

This letter thing is difficult.

I'm confident we can make it work, though, and Bastien will be insanely happy to pick out more paper for me to use.

Pass my greetings and best wishes on to Rhys, Vigsai, and your family.

522 more days to wait.

With all my love,  
Hermann

He re-reads what he'd written, heart aching, sets it aside. Picks up a pixie envelope, copies Edan's address from his note, gives Sabine's flat as the return. Carefully tri-folds his letter, tucks it inside, pushes it to the center of the table for Sabine.

Another deep breath and he takes Edan's letter, eases it back into its envelope, lays it at the bottom of the box, buries it under the rest of the paper, and closes the box.

Hermann folds his arms on the tabletop, pillows his head on them, breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Alan Levine](https://www.flickr.com/photos/cogdog/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/cogdog/4526842347/).
> 
> Bits and pieces of this come from "[Transferred](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1334983)".
> 
> And the departure from the original arc begins! What a difference a little extra defiance in the older Gottlieblings and remembering the existence of snail mail makes!
> 
> I'm not completely happy with the text of the two letters, but I'm totally stuffed for what else they would say and how they would say it.


	34. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's University of Manchester friends pack up his now-abandoned room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 January 2006  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1327.jpg [Sheep on White Horse Hill, Lower Woolstone, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Bakshish stops the box-toting parade outside Hermann's (former) room, gives everyone a meaningful look.

Edan, Iggy, and Rhys look back.

"Everyone knows the plan?" Bakshish puts the key in the lock.

"Yep."

"Yea."

Rhys grunts.

"And **what's** the plan?" Turns the key.

"Do whatever Iggy says," say Rhys and Edan in chorus.

Iggy and Bakshish roll their eyes and Bakshish opens the door.

They trump in, Edan last of all.

The room looks exactly how it did the morning before the holidays, though the air's gone stale.

Edan sighs as his heart sinks and he sets the care package on the bed ....

Bakshish says—

Edan startles.

—"Iggy, closet. Swansea, books—"

"Why do I have to to do the heavy bit?"

"Because I say so and I'm in charge."

Rhys grumbles in Welsh.

"Reid, you get the dresser and I'll take the washroom."

Edan schlumps over, grabs a flattened box from the stack, assembles it with help from the roll of tape around his wrist. He takes a deep breath and tugs open the bottom drawer.

Empty.

He shakes his head, moves to the next drawer higher.

Bed linens, light jumpers, thin socks.

Into the box goes the neat stack of sheets.

He picks up a couple of jumpers; the tag catches his eye.

On a sewn-in label, in laundry marker, someone's written

\- Brown -

He raises an eyebrow and checks the next jumper.

\- Navy -

"He's got a colour chart for his clothes!" squees Iggy, pointing to a paper taped to the closet door.

"Yea, and every item's labeled. Check the tags."

"This's so **cool**."

"Well, he has to do something to keep from clashing," points out Rhys.

"I wonder who does the labeling ...."

"'s'not his handwriting."

Iggy scoffs, "'course not. He's the one who can't see colours."

"Must be his sister."

"Sexist much?"

"His dad doesn't care, his brothers are a doctor and a ten-year-old, so she's gonna be the only one with writing neat enough," explains Edan.

"Ahh ... riiiiight."

Edan arranges jumpers and socks atop the linens.

Opens the next drawer.

Medium- and heavyweight jumpers, all neatly folded, the ones he can see labeled with their colours.

He blinks away the start of tears.

""Iggy?""

"Yea?"

"Why'd these be in here?" Bakshish steps out of the washroom holding up a red plastic bag. "Should I be worried?"

"'Biohazard'?" Iggy cocks her head. "There a sharps box?"

"Haven't found one."

"Any needles?"

"Not yet."

She frowns. "Needles're the usual reason for someone to have these. So he either took everything with 'im or those're for something else."

"Like what?"

"Any sort of biological sample or waste. Pick your substance."

Bakshish wrinkles his nose.

"Why—whoo ...." Rhys straightens from a desk drawer. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"Yea, the Hell's going on?"

"Whatever it is involves London, too." Rhys holds up a stack of pre-paid shipping envelopes addressed to a London PO Box. "He have family there?"

"He only mentioned Berlin, Montreal, and Hamelin."

"What about a correspondence course on the side?"

"Pretty sure he'd've said something and he didn't."

"Childhood friend?"

"I got the impression he didn't have anyone close outside his family."

"So none of us has a clue what these and those are about."

"Not a one," agrees Iggy.

Edan whines, heart twitching against his ribs.

Bakshish shrugs, heads back into the washroom. ""Less snooping, more packing!""

Iggy and Rhys sigh, go back to their tasks.

Edan contemplates the drawer of jumpers.

""Forgive me if I'm wrong, but is Hermann the type to focus much on his appearance?""

"Less than Iggy—"

"Sexist—"

"—on presentation days—"

Iggy concedes.

"—but more than Rhys."

Iggy and Rhys accept this as true.

""Okay, next question: a hairdryer?""

Iggy and Rhys look at Edan.

He shrugs.

"No idea on that one, either," calls Iggy.

""Man of mystery, this one.""

Edan sighs, ponders jumpers.

"That box won't pack itself," prompts Rhys.

Edan sighs mightily, gathers up a couple of jumpers.

Hesitates.

Holds the fabric to his nose, breathes deeply, and keeps breathing in Hermann's scent.

"What's it smell like?"

Edan jumps, just barely doesn't send the clothes flying. "Uh ... well, warm and soft?"

"Concrete, please, you lovesick trout."

Edan rolls his eyes. "Like baby shampoo and lavender and—" Grimaces, sniffs again. "Something like ... like ... it's familiar but I just **can't** put a finger on it."

Rhys rolls over, buries his face in Edan's handful, inhales, stands straight. After a moment's contemplation, he declares, "Chalk dust."

"Wha? Really?"

Rhys shrugs.

Edan wrinkles his brow, takes another sniff. "You're right." Frowns. " **Why** does it smell like chalk dust? How does he get it on his clothes?"

"If anyone'd know, it'd be you."

"Never saw him touch it, not that I was with him twenty-four-seven."

"Not for lack of trying."

"Fuck you, Swansea," snaps Edan.

Rhys holds up his hands in surrender.

Edan hangs his head, rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry."

"Maybe it's something in his cologne or deodorant?" offers Iggy.

Rhys and Edan give her a 'yea, right' look.

"'s not like you have any better ideas," she grumps, arms crossed.

"Wherever it's coming from, it's only adding to that bloke's collection of oddities."

"Yea, seriously," agrees Iggy.

Edan runs a hand through his hair.

"I'll address the elephant. All this man of mystery stuff put you off him, Gingersnap?"

"Of course not!"

" **Why** not?"

Edan smiles faintly. "Because not many men are mysteries."

"Did you just—"

"Yep."

"Science fiction people," sighs Rhys.

"That show'll be a **classic**! Just you watch!"

"I'll pass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [John Clift](https://www.flickr.com/photos/johnclift/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/johnclift/342356135/)
> 
> A little thing to mark the passage of some time, give some little details of how Hermann lives his daily life, and answer some questions MoiraColleen asked on another chapter.


	35. Boxing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's possessions—and a few unexpected items—arrive in Berlin from Manchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 January 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Chuck's stuff is in here somewhere (28/01/19, Sydney) -

Dee heaves the last box onto the desk with a grunt. „Good Lord, Manny, what the Hell did you buy over there? Rocks?“

Hermann shrugs without looking away from the abstracts from the latest _Astrophysics_ , then recrosses his ankles.

„Hey. There's a note taped to this one.“

Hermann pretends to read.

„You probably want to look at this.“

The envelope eclipses his laptop screen.

Hermann huffs at the unfamiliar writing on the front, opens it without enthusiasm.

Dee chuckles, pads out.

Hermann extracts a sheet of University of Manchester letterhead, sighs.

15 Jan '06

Mr Gottlieb,

The University saw fit to put me in charge

His eyes skip to the bottom of the note—

Regards,

Bakshish Singh

—roll.

The University saw fit to put me in charge of packing your possessions for their journey to Germany. I hope it's acceptable that I brought in three of your fellow students—a Ms Singh, a Mr Jones-Morgan, and a Mr Reid

Hermann's heart skips.

to assist me.

If anything's broken, it's totally their fault. (Swansea was especially careless.)

If there's anything included that's not yours, it is now. Finders keepers and all that. (All of them were sloppy with this last box. You just can't trust kids to do a decent job these days.)

Hermann blinks at the paper.

Side-eyes the box.

Blinks some more.

Flings aside the paper, dumps the laptop on the mattress, lunges—misses his balance, sends the chair toppling, grabs the edge of the desk, barely manages to stay upright.

Bastien skids in, squeaks, „Are you alright?“

„I'm fine,“ croaks Hermann. Clears his throat. „I was a bit ambitious with how quickly I stood up.“

Bastien stomps over, rights the chair, crosses his arms, frowns at Hermann.

„I'll be more careful next time.“

„You'd better.“ Bastien snaps a nod, marches off.

Hermann finds the edge and rips off the tape, opens the flaps—

The box inhales.

—peers inside.

A dark shirt, probably purple.

Not his.

He gathers it up, presses it to his face.

Cheap laundry detergent, strawberry soap.

**Edan.**

He buries his nose deeper.

The shirt _crinkle_ s?

Hermann extracts himself, feels about inside the garment, pulls out a slip of paper.

\- Trade you! -

in Edan's handwriting.

He smiles, wings fluttering happily, sets the shirt and note on the desk with a pat, and turns back to the box.

A thick layer of snacks: Hobnobs, Jelly Babies, Frazzles, Wine Gums, Twiglets.

Beneath that, an anti-static bag.

Hermann furrows his brow, unfolds it, shakes out three thumb drives. He puts those aside.

Another shirt, a different dark shade this time.

Below it, the bottom of the box.

Hermann replaces the shirts with a sigh, grabs his laptop, arranges it on the desk, and plunks on the chair.

He plugs in the first thumb drive, checks the contents, finds three folders.

\- CITY -

\- PEOPLE -

\- AROUND -

He opens the first to find dozens of snapshots of places in and around Manchester.

"Around" contains pictures from different cities, mostly Glasgow and Swansea, with a scattering of other locations around Britain.

He takes a deep breath, clicks into "People".

Rhys. Vigsai. Astrophysics classmates.

Edan.

Hermann closes the folder, wipes away the start of tears.

He switches to the next drive.

\- AWESOME_MIX_2 -

The Slits, the Au Pairs, the Damned, Buzzcocks.

The next.

\- AWESOME_MIX_1 -

Joy Division, The Fall, Wire, the Clash.

Hermann sets the laptop to copying over all the files to its hard drive.

He pushes to his feet, closes up the box, carries it to his closet, tucks it away on the shelf to save it for special occasions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Leonora (Ellie) Enking](https://www.flickr.com/photos/33037982@N04/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/33037982@N04/5144572942)
> 
> You just _know_ the British dorks couldn't just send Hermann's stuff back without a few mementos, right?


	36. So It Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another visit to Sabine's, another exchange of letters, this time about final exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 February 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Elmendorf-Richardson, July 2017 — Raleigh B. -

„I'm **totally** gonna beat you this time,“ crows Bastien, plunking onto the sofa.

„He's **totally** right, you know,“ adds Sabine, settling next to him.

Bastien preens.

„I'll believe it when it happens, Bunny.“ Dee smirks, inclining his head toward the chess board. „Do your worst.“

„Oh, I **will**.“

Hermann sighs and curls up tighter in the flat's fluffiest armchair, a mug of tea on the side table and a letter from Manchester in his hand.

Dear Hermann,

First, I hope your stuff made it to you in the same shape it left us. We were really careful, whatever Bakshish said. I don't know what your sister saw in that guy.

Anyway ...

Please don't hate me because I "misplaced" a couple of your shirts into my closet. I just wanted something that still smelled like you to help me through rough patches.

Like the last few days, honestly.

The semester starts tomorrow and I'm about beside myself. Rhys is threatening to sit on me so I stop fidgeting. I don't think it's help, but.

Grades came out yesterday, so I asked around the programme and, assuming you came out on top (which I'm sure you did), I ended up about fifth.

Hermann blinks.

I messed up my exams. Big-style.

Like, I scored maybe three-quarters of what I should've-style.

Hermann winces.

„Everything alright, Manny?“

„It's fine.“

„No, it's not,“ sniffs Bastien. „I can tell. What happened?“

„He botched his exams and lost his position at the top of the programme.“

Bastien wrinkles his forehead. „Is that bad?“

Hermann rest his hand against his neck. „Depending on his exact scores, he may have damaged his GPA too much to be accepted to the doctoral programme he wants.“

„Oh. So he might not be able to get into the same school as you when you go back.“

Hermann swallows, nods.

„But he's really smart, right?“

„Yes.“

Bastien frowns.

„It's like the Abitur, Bunny. It doesn't matter how smart you **actually** are: you have to do well on the test or it doesn't count to the school people.“

„That's **stupid**.“

Dee shrugs helplessly. „Maybe, but it's the way things work.“

„It's still stupid,“ huffs Bastien.

„I couldn't agree more,“ says Sabine.

Bastien beams at her.

„I'm sure he'll be able to raise his average,“ Dee assures. „He has plenty of time.“

Hermann shakes his head, mumbles, „Without me to help him with maths, though ....“

„He'll manage, I'm sure.“

Hermann grunts, returns to his reading.

I still have my scholarship, which keeps me from limping back home with my tail between my legs.

I'm disappointed with me, but I will make it up this term. I'm not letting you get too far ahead of me.

Hermann sighs.

I guess I shouldn't assume you kicked ass on your exams considering how weird it must've been to write them on your own with a proctor breathing down your neck.

Who'm I kidding? This's you. I'd be amazed if you missed a single point.

Hermann's face heats.

The rest of programme people I talked to all hope you're doing well and say they'll miss you this term.

Iggy pretty much smoked her exams. She'll be on the Dean's list when it comes out. (She wonders if she sent enough Hobnobs, by the way.)

Rhys did just enough to keep his scholarship apparently. He calls it "efficiency in studies". I call it "underachieving".

I was thinking of running for office in one of the LGBT groups on campus, but after the exam fiasco, I think I need to stick to studying. Especially since I don't have you to handhold me through the maths.

If I die this term, it'll be because of maths.

I expect you to avenge me.

Rhys is saying it's time for dinner, so I guess I have to sign off.

Wishing we were together to hold hands under the stars.

496 days and counting down.

Love,  
Edan

Manchester  
29 Jan. '06

Hermann wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

„What's happening?“ asks Bastien.

„Just ... just missing him.“

Bastien looks to Sabine.

„Think about how you felt when Manny left and multiply it by ten,“ she prompts.

Bastien ... slides off the sofa, pads over, hugs Hermann tight.

„What's this for?“

„I'm sorry,“ mumbles Bastien.

„It's nothing to do with you.“

„But you shouldn't have to hurt like this.“

Hermann squeezes, says nothing.

Bastien takes a deep breath, pulls away.

„Thank you,“ rasps Hermann.

„You're welcome.“ Bastien smiles, returns to the couch and his chess game.

Hermann sighs, eases to his feet (under Bastien's watchful eyes), leans on his cane, and retreats to the kitchen.

He pulls the box from its place in the pantry, extracts a handful of unicorn-bedecked paper and a pen, and settles into a chair at the table to write.

5 Feb 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

The two extra shirts which appeared among my possessions more than make up for any "misplaced".

Vigsai's selection of snacks lasted two days because Bastien found them. I don't understand how someone so small can eat so much and not burst.

Fear not that I will go into withdrawal as Sente (one of Sabine's flatmates) has introduced us to a cornershop which stocks all manner of delicacies from Britain. We had to pry a case of Hobnobs out of Bastien's hands; there was very nearly a fight.

My exam scores came back as you predicted, so I end my career as an astrophysics major at the University of Manchester on top.

My congratulations to Vigsai on her achievement and I'm pleased Rhys will continue to be a thorn in your side for at least another semester.

He taps the pen against his lips.

Do you have an idea of what happened on your exams? Test anxiety? Problems with the maths? Perhaps there's a tutor available to take my place? (With regards to maths, not your affections.)

I sincerely doubt you will require avenging. I have confidence in your ability to rise to the challenge posed by anything standing between you and the stars. I suspect nothing short of a cometary impact could keep you away from your date with the Lovell.

While TU Berlin has an astrophysics programme, my heart doesn't seem to be in it anymore. Leaving Manchester like I have seems to have left a sour taste in my mouth. Maybe I'll switch to a straight physics or mathematics programme. I want the stars, but ... they aren't the same here. They're less entrancing, less worthy somehow. I know that's not literally true, but it feels true.

I don't really understand.

I certainly won't be taking up robotics as my father suggests. I have no interest in machines. Correction: I have no interest in designing machines; admiring and using them is a different matter entirely.

Have I mentioned how my grandfather and I used to assemble models for fun? There's an entire library of aircraft from WWII in the attic here. Many of them are British types, in fact—my grandfather having a special affection for the people who sacrificed so much allow his family to return to their ancestral home in Germany. How all of the minuscule parts fit together to make steel soar fascinates me, as does the way they fly in a manner both so different and so similar to how a bird does.

One of his wings struggles to flutter.

Hermann internally scolds the limb, shuffles it into a marginally more comfortable position against his back.

Next week, to keep myself occupied until the start of the term (April!!!), I start intensive language tutoring: Russian three days a week, Japanese and French one day each. I'd add Gaelic, but I haven't been able to locate a proper teacher.

Agus mar sin tha e a 'dol, yea?

I'll keep looking, though.

Maybe if I advance quickly enough, I can begin electives or general requirements with transferable credits. I desperately want to finish my schooling here as close to my birthday as humanly possible so I can get out.

I'll feel terrible leaving Bastien behind again as Father seems even more harsh with him than he is to me (my current state of house arrest aside), but I have to consider my own health and sanity. Dietrich and Sabine will be here to protect him if I manage to escape until he can do likewise.

Why does life have to be so complicated?

One thing that's not complicated?

How happy every message from you makes me. I can only hope you feel the same way about receiving mine.

489 days to wait.

All my love,  
Hermann

Hermann checks his words, sighs. He addresses the envelope to Manchester, tucks the note inside.

A silent ten-count and he hauls himself to his feet and back to the sitting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [gunnsteinlye](https://www.flickr.com/photos/gunnsteinlye/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/gunnsteinlye/3812056733/)
> 
> I couldn't just leave it at sunshine and happiness could I?
> 
> The [Abitur](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abitur) is the German high school graduation-slash-college entrance exam.
> 
> Hermann's Scottish Gaelic line translates (according to Google, at least) to "And so it goes".
> 
> WHY DOESN'T AO3 HAVE AN 'UNPUBLISH' OPTION? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO GO LIVE ON THE 18TH LIKE IT DID. GRRRRRRRRRR.


	37. Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Bastien spend Valentine's Day at home in Berlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 February 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1327.jpg [Sheep on White Horse Hill, Lower Woolstone, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann glowers at his workbook and his horrifically malformed attempts at reproducing the first five katakana, sulks back in his desk chair.

Bastien stops petting his wings, peers around his side.

„It's hard, huh?“

„The rules are simple enough, but these damn kana ....“ Gestures in frustration.

„If you teach me, maybe I can help?“

„I can't even **copy** it yet, how am I supposed to **teach** it?“ sighs Hermann.

Bastien crosses his arms. „We can learn together.“

„That's not how it works, Bunny.“

„Why isn't it?“

Hermann cocks his head. „What is it about Japan that you find so appealing?“

Bastien shrugs. „It's different—“ Checks over his shoulder. „—and it's far away.“

„I can see the appeal in that.“

„Well, **I** can't **wait** until I'm—“

A sharp rap at the door.

Bastien eeps, jumps; Hermann sits straighter.

„I will be out for the rest of the evening. I expect you to be in bed at the proper time, Bastien.“

„Yes, Father,“ he grumbles.

„What was that?“

„Yes, Father.“

Father grunts, stalks away.

They listen to his footsteps fade, then the front door latches.

Bastien looks to Hermann.

Hermann queries.

„Do you know where Father's going?“

„He has a date.“

„Ohhhh ... riiiiight. What's her name again?“

„Monica something. I think.“ Mumbles, „I try not to think about dates, especially not related to Father.“

„Why not—“ Freezes. „Oh. Yea. Sorry, Manny.“

Hermann waves it off.

„Do you think he wrote you for Valentine's Day?“ whispers Bastien.

Hermann shrugs.

„Are you going to write **him** for Valentine's Day?“

Hermann shrugs again.

„You really should write him, you know.“

„Why's that?“

„It's what people in looove **do** on Valentine's Day.“

„And you know this because ....“

„ **Everybody** knows it, silly.“

Hermann smiles despite his best efforts. „Fine. I'll include a holiday greeting—“

„And something with hearts!“

„—and something with hearts in my next note.“

„Awesome!“ Bastien's eyes light up with mischief. „Sooooo ... what do we want to do now?“ 

„Well, my writing isn't going to improve tonight—“

„Video games?“ chirps Bastien.

„Your screen time—“

„Father's not here.“

„What game did you have in mind?“ Hermann levers to his feet. 

„ _Katamari_!“

„It's **always** _Katamari_ , isn't it?“

„Because it's **awesome** , duh.“

Hermann rolls his eyes as Bastien tows him to the sitting room and pushes him down onto the couch, then bounces over to start the PlayStation.

Familiar music fills the air.

Bastien settles in, passes Hermann a controller, taps through the menus to engage competitive mode.

„Can't we play cooperatively this time?“

„No way! This's the one game I can beat you at!“

Hermann sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [jiva](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jiva/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jiva/252644202/)
> 
> Yet another teensy bit of defiance of the household rules by Bastien, along with a glimpse of his growing interest in Japan.


	38. Wonder Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Bastien 'accompany' their father on a date to the opera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 February 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- a china butterfly? (14/04/19, Sydney) -

Hermann and Bastien, by far the youngest people at the post-performance party, do their level best to be invisible to the chattering—to use Edan's vernacular—posh types by staying tight against the dimmest wall.

„Stop messing with your tie,“ hisses Hermann.

Bastien jerks his hand away from his collar. „It's too tight!“

„That's how they're supposed to be.“

„This's so stupid,“ Bastien grumbles.

„Behave anyway.“

Bastien rolls his eyes, scuffs his toe in his polished shoes. „We're not trophies.“

„To Father, we are, along with being medals of honour.“

Bastien growls.

„How about you get us something to drink?“

Bastien grumps off to the refreshments table.

Hermann rolls his shoulders, winces as a handful of feathers are tugged against the grain. He shifts again without finding relief, sighs.

Bastien offers a bottle of water.

„Thank you.“

„'welcome.“ He swigs from a cup of punch, grimaces.

„Sour?“

„ **Sweet.** “

„That's an unusual thing for you to complain about.“

Bastien huffs. „May I have some of your water?“

Hermann passes it over.

Bastien drinks, hands it back, then heads for the food table again.

Hermann keeps watch on the crowd, which, thankfully, continues to ignore him.

Bastien returns with a water bottle, a cookie of some sort, and worried expression. „Father's coming this way with his date!“

„ **Behave.** “

Bastien makes a face, stuffs the entire cookie in his mouth.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

„„—told you I **absolutely** must meet your sons.““

Father responds unintelligibly.

„„None of that now. I'm sure they're **wonderful** boys.““

Bastien snorts into his water.

Hermann kicks his foot.

Bastien—freezes, curves his lips into a smile.

Father, with Ms Schwartz—impeccably made-up, coiffed, and dressed—at his side, steps up and announces, „Monica, these—“

„Oh, you brought them!“ She hugs his arm. „Thank you, my love.“ Kisses his cheek, then sparkles at Hermann and Bastien. „Aren't you two just the most darling brothers!“

„Uh, yes.“ Father tugs at his collars. „These are Hermann—“

Hermann bows, says quietly, „Ms Schwartz.“

„—and Bastien.“

He does likewise, silently.

Ms Schwartz inclines her head in greeting, then smiles broadly at them—

Hermann does. not. shuffle.

—coos, „What handsome young men! So much like you, darling.“

Father corrects a stifled cringe into a preen.

„How old are you little gentlemen?“

Hermann does. not. bristle.

Bastien dials up his charm, chirps, „I'm ten—almost eleven—and he's sixteen.“

She melts a little—

Hermann does. not. roll. his eyes.

—says, „You remind me of my son.“

Bastien peers around her. „Is he here?“

„Unfortunately not, darling.“

Bastien puts on a frown.

„Don't worry even a little over him. He's in New York with his father.“

„Oh, darn.“

Father links elbows with Ms Schwartz, seeking escape.

She pats his forearm with a gloved hand. „Trust me, darling, he's happier there. My career means I'm not a suitable parent for a budding genius like him.“ Ms Schwartz glows. „He's already taking university courses.“

„Like Hermann!“

Ms Schwartz turns her attention; Hermann does. not. cringe.

„Oh? What's your programme?“

„I-I—“ Hermann clears his throat, continues with more confidence. „I haven't decided, but I start next term at TU Berlin.“

„Good for you! My boy is earning biology credits at Columbia University and they're **already** offering him graduate courses.“

Father fixes Hermann with a Look.

Hermann holds his stare.

„Monica, we mustn't keep everyone waiting.“

„Of course, of course.“ Ms Schwartz bobs her head. „It was lovely meeting the two of you.“

„It was a pleasure, Ms Schwartz.“

„Likewise~!“ adds Bastien.

Ms Schwartz glows at them, then lets Father guide her into the thick of the party.

Hermann lets his shoulders drop; Bastien hunches his.

„Well, that's over,“ mumbles Hermann. „We made Father look good to his date.“

„Whee.“ Bastien loosens his tie. „ **Now** what do we do?“

Hermann checks his pockets. „I have a notepad. Want to find a corner and re-write the libretto so it makes sense?“

„Only if I can fix the costumes, too.“

„Of course.“

„Cool! Let's go!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Mike Baker](https://www.flickr.com/photos/pixor/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/pixor/5348323653/).
> 
> As artificiallifecreator pointed out, there are universes in which Monica _insists_ one or both Gottliebs become penpals with her son. I'm pretty sure this is not one of those universes, but I am sorely tempted, believe me.


	39. Regards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Bastien try, somewhat reluctantly, to make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 February 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1760.jpg [Sunrise, Brecon Beacons, Wales, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Bastien glowers at the monitor from his perch on Hermann's desk chair. „This's so **stupid**.“

„Just get it over with,“ hisses Hermann, sitting on his bed, fingers pausing on the keys of his laptop.

Bastien grumps, but resumes typing.

Hermann looks at his screen and resolutely does. not. sigh.

„It's almost like **we're** dating her.“

„You probably don't want Father to overhear you complaining.“

„He won't come out of his office for at **least** another hour.“

„You hope.“

„I **know**. He's like a machine.“

Hermann **does** sigh, taps his finger lightly on the 'H'.

„What do we have in common with this kid anyway?“

„His doesn't have a mother,“ murmurs Hermann.

Bastien stills, blinks.

Hermann frowns, shifts against the headboard to resettle his wings under his pajamas.

„Well, hopefully **his** father loves him. Unlike **some** people's.“

„Just write the damn letter.“

„Why should I?“

„Because Father's more likely to let you visit Dee or go to the library if you do.“

Bastien huffs, „This's **so** stupid.“

„Look at it this way: Father's allowing you on the internet for something other than homework **and** he's not watching over your shoulder as you type.“

„He's going to read this **and** check the history.“

„It's a step in the direction you want, though.“

„A teensy- **tiny** step.“

Hermann shrugs.

„But I **guess** I'll take what I can get.“

„Sensible of you.“

Bastien grumbles wordlessly, types with force.

Hermann skims over his own letter.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (HG_CP1919@gmail.com)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** Greetings from Berlin

Mr Geiszler,

Please excuse the suddenness of this missive. My father and your mother feel the two of us may have much in common.

Like yourself, I am a university student. More accurately, I will be a student Technische Universität Berlin beginning at the start of the second term in April after having completed a semester at the University of Manchester.

I understand you attend Columbia and have already been offered graduate courses. Your mother was unclear on whether you have undertaken a formal programme, though she did mention your studies focus on biology.

He grimaces anew at the mention of his mother's pursuits.

The life sciences fall outside my interests, as I much prefer physics and mathematics. Even so, perhaps our paths will cross in academia sometime in the future.

I must admit I am curious as to what life in the United States is like, having never been farther from Berlin than Manchester, England.

My life here is resolutely boring as I spend the time before the start of lectures with independent studies of the Russian, French, and Japanese languages. The antics of my younger brother, Bastien (who shall also be writing you), are my major source of entertainment, along with the occasional video game.

With that I will close, as you are surely busy with your studies.

I look forward to receiving your reply.

With regards,  
Hermann Gottlieb  
Berlin, Germany

Hermann grunts, satisfied, taps 'save draft', and stretches his arms over his head.

„You're done **already**?“ whines Bastien.

Hermann shrugs.

„This's so **stupid**.“

Hermann rolls his eyes. „Stupid or not, just finish it so I can go to sleep.“

„Stupid stupid stupid.“

„Just—“

„I'm going, I'm going.“ Bastien clatters through more words.

Hermann rests his head against the wall and stares at the ceiling, wishing it was an English sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Matt White](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mattwpbs/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mattwpbs/12902508144/).
> 
> Yeah, okay, fine. MoiraColleen has me dancing on a string. I just couldn't resist turning what was meant to be a throwaway line in the previous chapter into yet _another_ subplot.


	40. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Bastien's new pen pal's manners leave something to be desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 February 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Dr Yarrow has her foot in the door (19/03/19, Sydney) -

Bastien stomps into Hermann's room, throws himself into the desk chair, sending it skidding into the side of the mattress—

Hermann glances up from his textbook, raises an eyebrow.

—crosses his arms, scowls.

„Do I want to know?“

„That Geiszler **asshole** wrote back.“

„What did he say?“

„He **said** he's an **asshole** , but used a **lot** more words.“ Bastien sulks lower. „I don't care **what** Father says. I'm not writing him again.“

Hermann frowns, holds out his hands. „Pass me my laptop, please.“

Bastien does, returns immediately to pouting.

Hermann boots up the machine, waits for it to connect to Father's wifi, checks his email.

Sure enough, a reply waits for him, too, and he clicks it open.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (HG_CP1919@gmail.com)  
**Subject:** RE: Greetings from Berlin

WTF DUDE HOW OLD ARE YOU? EIGHTY?

Hermann growls low in his throat.

„Told you.“

„He insulted me in the first 'sentence'.“

„Same here.“

„At least he's consistent.“

„Yea, a consistent **asshole**.“

Hermann snorts.

The maternal unit said you were MY AGE!!1!

WHICH REMINDS ME:

OUR PARENST ARE DATING????

EEWWW. SRSLY.

So ... HERMANN, you're starting school in a couple of months. What'll you be studying? Columbia wants me in their biology department so bad they're letting me take take a couple courses each semester at home on top of the usual high school shit. I'm starting grad courses over the summer, since this stuff isn't hard at all. I'll probably finish my M.S. at Columbia, since there already

Hermann's eyelid twitches.

since there already talking full ride. The other schools (Stanford, Harvard, Berkley, Princeton, Yale, Cornell, Duke, the usual suspects) are just fishing, nothing on the record yet.

Dad says TU's a pretty good school, so it's cool they've let you in a little early

Hermann snarls.

„Did it again, huh?“

„Worse.“

„I'm almost impressed,“ drawls Bastien.

Dad says TU's a pretty good school, so it's cool they've let you in a little early, but you really should get your major picked out so you don't waste too much time screwing around trying to "find" yourself.

Hermann slowly, deliberately closes the laptop, sets it aside.

'Well?' says Bastien's eyebrow.

„He's a complete and utter **asshole**.“

Bastien grins.

Hermann takes a deep breath, tugs his cuffs farther down over his bandaged wrists. „He is, however, an asshole with whom we're allowed to communicate.“

Bastien tilts his head, expression suddenly cunning. „You think he can help us?“

„I don't know, but it doesn't strike me as wise to close one of the few doors open to us.“ He side-eyes the laptop. „I'll just need a few minutes to calm myself so I can face reading the rest of his note.“

„It's not gonna get better.“

„Probably not, but I want to approach with an open mind.“

Bastien snorks, slides to his feet. „Want a snack?“

„An apple, if there are any left.“

„I think there are. Back in a minute~!“ He skips off.

Hermann gazes heavenward, mumbles, "Why can't he be more like Edan?", then gently bangs the back of his head against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [temporalata](https://www.flickr.com/photos/93425126@N00/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/93425126@N00/4408894161/).
> 
> Newt ... is anyone surprised he doesn't change much over the years?


	41. Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan's long-distance relationship continues with help from Dietrich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 March 2005  
> Berlin, Germany

\- I was a very brave boy! (02/01/17, Lima) -

Motion at the edge of Hermann's vision.

He glances up as Dee slides in across the library work table, smiling warmly.

„Sorry I'm late.“ Slips off his coat, hangs it on the back of his chair. „I had a **raging** toddler who wouldn't sit still for her jabs until I recited half of _Peter Rabbit_ , complete with silly voices.“

Hermann snorts a laugh. „Was that part of your training?“

„I **wish**.“ Leans back. „Anything for me today?“

Hermann slides over an envelope.

Dee tucks it away into the satchel on the floor beside him. „You're already into the tropical pattern?“

Hermann shrugs.

„I'm sorry it has to be like this.“

„We're dealing with it alright.“ Hermann scratches at the long, thin scars hidden by his jumper sleeves. „He's still writing, at least.“

„No kidding,“ snickers Dee, offering a thick envelope patterned with fluffy sheep. „He should probably be paying book rate for these.“

Hermann snaps it from his hands, tears it open.

Hermann!

What the hell, mate? You're worried about a couple of little scars? You could turn bleeding purple and sprout horns and only speak Finnish and I'd still love you.

Hermann wipes his eyes.

I'd learn Finnish, Hermann.

Finnish!

Scars.

Pfft.

You could always take a page out of Trinity's book. She used to cut and, when she stopped, she had these amazing halberds tattooed over the scars, all the way from her wrists to her elbows. Seriously bad-ass.

If I wasn't such a wimp, I'd love to have something like that done. Not the cutting, the tattoos.

But if you want to have some inking done, I'll be there to hold your hand. I don't faint at the sight of blood. (Unless it's mine)

So, yea, I'm not giving up on seeing you again.

So don't you give up on me unless you find someone better. Or get sick of me. Just don't preemptively dump me, alright?

Deal?

"Deal," mumbles Hermann.

„„What was that?““

„Nothing.“

O! Or we could make up a story about the scars! You said it looks like a wild animal got at you, right? You could tell people you wrestled a tiger! Or fought off a serial killer!

Hermann chuckles—

„„Anything you can share?““

—waves, 'later'.

Dee snorts.

Think of the possibilities, Hermann! Think of them!

Hermann sighs happily, flips the page.

He works to burn every word into his memory, dreading reaching the last line, when the echo of Edan's voice in his head would go silent.

But it inevitably comes:

463 and counting.

With all my heart,  
Edan

Manchester  
3 Mar. '06 -

Hermann lets his head fall back, breathes deeply a few times, then rereads the entire thing. With a shaky breath, he nestles it in its envelope and pushes it back to Dee.

He accepts, then gently hides it away with Hermann's note. „Would you like to join me and Sabine for dinner?“

Hermann checks his watch, shakes his head. „Father's expecting me downstairs in ten minutes. You should probably go.“

Dee heaves a sigh, stands. „I suppose you're right.“ Threads himself into his jacket, picks up his satchel. „Is there anything I can do for you and Bunny?“

„We're fine right now. Thank you.“

„This really stinks, Manny. I'm sorry.“ Dee runs a hand through his hair. „I wish—“

„It is what it is.“ Hermann heaves himself to his feet, fights his way into his coat. „At least you found a way for us to keep speaking.“ Shoulders his bag, takes hold of his cane. „At least I still have a friend.“

„You can make more—“

„I'm not going to risk it.“ Hobbles around the table, heading for the lift. „Besides, I have Bunny to keep me company.“

Dee frowns, matches pace.

Hermann pokes the call button. „I appreciate what you're doing. You're in a difficult spot—between us and Father.“

„It's not **nearly** as tough as the one you're in.“

Hermann shrugs as the lift doors slide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Scott Hamlin](https://www.flickr.com/photos/scotthamlin/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/scotthamlin/5331241303/).
> 
> Aaaand here's the chapter where Edan gets out of control and starts taking things over. I could _not_ convince him be serious for a _second_ and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to again. Bad OC! No biscuits!


	42. Cipher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann finds a way to tell Newt _exactly_ what he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 March 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1933.jpg [Alan Turing statue, Bletchley Park, Milton Keynes, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann sighs into his desk chair, powers up the PC, massages his knee, and grimaces. Cursing the limb—and his not-quite-healed wrists—he connects the wifi and logs into his email.

Spam (the filter is worse than useless).

Dee (hopefully an invitation to dinner).

Spam (there **must** be a more effective one available).

A TU professor (probably begging him to take a given course).

**Geiszler.**

He opens that one, skims the usual torrent of poor grammar, profanity, and boasting.

Then, he notices the very specific transpositions.

„You **did** see it after all, you arrogant toadstool,“ Hermann smugs, then turns his attention to deciphering the message.

Very funny Hermann ha ha.

I found and broke your little code and I am going to learn Russian just to return the favor you fucking fucker.

Hermann's cheeks hurt from grinning.

You made my uncle read that shit dude. Do you get off on being mean or something.

Scoffs internally

That is so uncool.

Suppresses an eye-roll.

The fact I am getting into a better school than you is no reason to be such a petty dick. If you are as smart as you think you are I am sure you will do alright when you get off vacation. For now play with your little secret messages while I do real graduate research.

Hermann growls, smacks open a reply, types his encoded (in Russian) rebuttal.

I see you have resorted to German for your reply. I am unsure what to make of this. Did you somehow believe that despite my place of residence and my rather ethnic name I am not fluent in the language. Or is German perhaps the only language other than English you know.

It may be beneficial for you to replace some of those graduate courses of which you are so proud with language lessons so you may join the rest of the civilized world in being multilingual. Japanese might be an appropriate choice given your apparent tentacle fetish. My university classmates assured me there is a wealth of stimulating material in that language available online.

Hermann chuckles to himself.

Father strides in, demands, „What are you doing on the internet?“

„Composing a reply to Ms Schwartz's son,“ Hermann answers without looking away from the screen.

Father leans over his shoulder, then grunts, straightens, and leaves.

Hermann snickers, picks up his tirade where he left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Felix Winkelnkemper](https://www.flickr.com/photos/winkelnkemper/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/winkelnkemper/20146400794/).
> 
> Running with yet another great idea from MoiraColleen here ....


	43. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's grandparents visit Berlin for Bastien's birthday only to find three very subdued brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Mamma found a new recipe! (26/02/24, Koffiefontein) -

Klaus unfolds himself from the back of the cab, offers Adina a hand.

She smiles, glides to her feet, „Thank you, Lovey.“

He bows—„You're welcome, Dovey.“—and pays the driver while she walks to the front door.

She resettles her purse while she waits for him to catch up.

„I could've driven.“

„Of course you could've.“ Adina smiles sweetly, pats his arm. „If you still had a license.“

„I can get it back any time I want,“ he sniffs and presses the bell.

The chime echoes, muffled.

After a moment, Dietrich opens the door, sheepish smile on his face, and bows them inside. „Father sends his regrets; there's an emergency at his firm.“

Klaus frowns. „He's an engineer. What sort of e—“

Adina jams an elbow in his ribs.

Klaus hides a sigh in working off his shoes. When he straightens, Dietrich's smile has brightened a touch.

„I would've thought you'd be working today.“

„I managed to convince a friend to cover for me.“ Dietrich shrugs. „We're in the sitting room.“

„Lead on!“

He and Adina follow to where the younger ones wait.

Hermann curls in a stuffed chair, mostly hidden behind a book with a French—probably—title.

Bastien clatters a tea tray to the low table, offers an uncharacteristically weak smile.

„Happy birthday, Little Rabbit!“

„Thank you, Oma,“ says Bastien, stepping into her hug and quickly away.

Klaus tilts his head, pulls Bastien into his arms.

Bastien barely returns the gesture.

„Not so fast, young man. You're not too old for a **proper** hug now that you're all of eleven, are you?“

Bastien smiles through a blush, presses himself close.

„That's more like it.“ He strokes Bastien's hair.

Bastien eases away.

„You've grown since we last saw you.“

„Maybe a centimeter,“ he admits, sliding onto the sofa.

Klaus and Adina take up flanking positions; Dietrich claims the another armchair.

„Good morning, Hermann,“ greets Adina, gently.

Hermann barely looks up from his reading, says, „Hello, Oma, Opa,“ and disappears back into his text.

Adina gives Klaus a look over Bastien's head.

A _clink_ as Dietrich pours tea. „We should probably start before it goes cold,“ he shrugs.

„Good idea,“ replies Adina as she accepts, nabs a little cake. „What sort of delicacy are these?“

„Mrs Koch's special apple spice nibbles.“

Klaus coos, nabs one. „I love that woman's baking.“

Adina clears her throat.

„Not as much as yours, of course.“

„Thank you, Lovey.“

Klaus chuckles, takes a bite of the savory.

Hermann leans forward, stretches for a cake, the sleeve of his jumper riding up his arm—

A thin, straight line of reddened flesh peeps out.

Adina gasps.

Hermann startles, drops the pastry, hastily tugs the cuff back into place. „Excuse me,“ he mumbles, „I'm not feeling well.“ He lurches to his feet and hobbles out on his cane.

Bastien watches him go, worry written in the lines of his face.

Dietrich holds him in his seat.

A door closes at the back of the house.

Adina carefully aligns her cup.

Klaus inhales deeply, says it: „Did Hermann try to commit suicide?“

„Yes,“ replies Dietrich.

„When?“

„At the start of the holidays.“

„Ah.“ Klaus braces himself. „Why?“

Bastien's expression darkens.

Dietrich swallows, keeps his eyes down. „All the changes were too much for him.“

„The poor dear ...,“ murmurs Adina.

Klaus squeezes her hand. „I worried going abroad might be too much, too quickly for him.“

Bastien pokes his snack, chewing his lower lip.

Dietrich sighs. „He seemed to adjust well, but ....“

They sip tea.

Adina breaks the quiet. „He was so **excited** to go.“

Dietrich nods.

Bastien grinds his teeth.

„What's wrong, Little Rabbit?“

Bastien jumps, focuses intently on his sweet, grumbles, „Nothing.“

„It's been hard on him, too,“ explains Dietrich.

Adina nods, somewhat reassured.

„That's not—“ Bastien sighs to a stop, takes an unenthusiastic bite.

The reassurance slips away.

„Boys, seriously,“ says Klaus, „what's wrong?“

Dietrich and Bastien study their cup and plate, respectively.

„Please, boys. Perhaps we can help.“

Bastien says—

Dietrich sets a hand on his shoulder.

—glares, shakes him off, tilts his chin. „Manny tried to die because Father won't let him go back.“

They look to Dietrich.

„Dee?“

He hangs his head, silence eloquent.

Klaus sighs.

Adina reaches over, takes Dietrich's hand in hers, runs her thumb across its back. „What happened, dear?“

Dietrich shakes his head, says nothing.

„I know it hurts, but you can tell us anything.“

Dietrich stays silent.

Bastien huffs. „Manny has— **had** a boyfriend.“

Dietrich cringes.

Adina frowns.

Klaus clears his throat. „His marks?“

„Top of his programme,“ croaks Dietrich.

„His 'issues'?“

„Better than when he left.“

„So that's it? A crush? That's **all** the reason your father gave?“

„ **Yes** ,“ declares Bastien, crossing his arms.

Klaus rolls his eyes.

Bastien blinks rapidly, tenses, squeaks, „You're not mad at Manny now, too, are you?“

„Of course not, dearie,“ soothes Adina.

„Really?“

„Definitely. Hermann's experimenting like a teenager does. Your father's apparently forgotten what it's like to be sixteen.“

„And all the hormones and invincibility that come with the age,“ drawls Klaus.

Bastien blinks at that.

„I'll explain when you're older, Bunny,“ says Dietrich.

Bastien sniffs.

„Please don't tell Father we've shared this with you. He swore us to silence and you know how he is about secrets and promises.“

This time, Adina rolls her eyes.

„If we can't say anything, we can't help.“

Dietrich runs a hand through his hair. „I know and I wish—“ Straightens. „Hermann's accepted the transfer of schools and's moving on. It may do more harm than good to try and change things now.“

Klaus concedes over a sip of tea.

Dietrich and Adina take their own.

Bastien nibbles.

Klaus takes a deep breath, sets down his cup. „Boys, listen to your grandfather now.“

They attend.

„Somewhere in the past, your father ... he gave up his compassion.“

Adina nods, laces her fingers with his.

„Without compassion, people feel free to be monsters. Please don't make the same mistake, no matter what happens to you.“

„We won't,“ promises Dietrich.

„ **Never** ,“ declares Bastien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [tawest64](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tawest64/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tawest64/2883170569/in/photolist-5oM1ap-8KLNkY-ekFhX-i4MXab-5sq8wo-aoAnQe-pWUGPy-dty2n2-5oRhRs-5oM1eg-bgpcv2-ybsne-77DZ4s-5sq8d9-4BoKRL-6FwSPj-5sq8Jq-5sq8nS-7RTqn9-oJczfS-7RTqnm-9ySec-UnkMq-dC2nTD)
> 
> The elder Gottliebs really surprised me this time around. I was expecting them to be a little more judgmental than they actually were. They have no illusions about their son and deeply love their grandchildren, but they grew up in a very different world from the boys, so, yea, I wasn't expecting them to take the disclosure about Hermann's sexuality as in-stride as they did.


	44. Hurrah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan writes again as the University of Manchester semester winds down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- oops. (14/02/23, Koffiefontein) -

Hermann ducks out of the rain into the café entry, pushes back his hood. He rolls his shoulders and shuffles into the place proper.

Dee waves from a table in the front rank; Sabine, beside him, beams over a mug.

Hermann smiles, slides in.

„Hey, Manny,“ greets Dee.

„Lovely weather we're having,“ snickers Sabine.

Hermann pouts at her, climbs out of his jacket.

Dee fills a mug from the waiting carafe, pushes it over.

„Thank you.“

„I have something for you, too.“

Hermann raises an eyebrow, heart racing in anticipation.

Sabine presses an envelope into his hands.

Hermann opens it, squints.

„Where're your glasses?“

Hermann shrugs, holds the paper at arm's length.

„Maybe we need to carry spares for him.“

„Eat your sandwich, my love.“

„Yes, ma'am.“

Dear Hermann,

I'm torn between wishing you were here and being glad you're not because if you were here, Rhys would be trying to find a four bedroom flat for next term that's not a literal shed and three bedrooms is already proving nigh-impossible and Iggy and I are so busy with labs and finals prep—five exams each! Five!—we have absolutely no energy to help.

(Rhys has two formals and two take homes).

Oh Hermann, I am so tired.

Thankfully, Rhys makes very nice slideshows.

Who would've thought a literature major would be useful to have around.

Not me, but there you go. Learning every day like a proper student.

I really do wish you were here.

We could attack these stupid problem sets as an unstoppable team and maybe have enough time and energy to skip over to Kamal's for some tikka and vindaloo and get some actual, blessed fucking sleep.

And, you know, cuddle and kiss and stuff.

But mostly sleep. All curled up and warm like a couple of hamsters. Or kittens. Or bunnies. Or other small adorable fluffy things.

!!!

Wish your Bunny a happy birthday for me!

Wish me a good night's sleep while you're at it.

We're all going back to the homesteads for the break. Rhys has some mini-internship set up with a newspaper. Iggy's helping Aakash move to Liverpool for his residency. So maybe that's not technically home, but you get the point.

I'm off to Glasgow and Mum's planning to put me to work around the house and garden since Dad's been offshore all through the spring cleaning season, the lucky fucker. So I'll be digging vegetable beds and dusting ceilings and maybe some light plumbing. Padding my resumé as a potential husband, I guess you could say.

Hermann smiles, cheeks warming.

But now my mobile is yelling at me saying it's time to meet Justin—who turns out to be a decent maths tutor even if he's not nearly as good as you—for a bit of cramming before the next exam.

Keep me in whatever prayers you might offer to whatever Gods or powers you see fit.

438 and counting.

Love,  
Edan

28 Mar. '06  
Manchester

Hermann wipes his eyes on his shoulder, fumbles his reply from a jacket pocket, slides both notes to Sabine.

„Bluebirds?“ She tucks them into her bag.

„Talk to Bastien about it.“

„I think it's adorable.“

Dee kisses Sabine's hair. „Of course you do, my love.“

Hermann sighs into his coffee.

„You're one day closer to seeing him again, Manny.“

„Hurrah.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Eric P.](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ericp/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ericp/614851388/).
> 
> Someday Hermann will be happy after reading or writing a letter. I hope.


	45. Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's grandparents brighten his day with a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Quince flowers (28 Feb 2013) — Hasi -

The sitting room clock chimes eighteen-hundred and Doctor Schulte, across the dining room table, sighs, «I suppose that's all we can do for tonight.»

«I suppose so,» echoes Hermann, closing his workbook.

«Now, you begin uni next week?»

«Yes, sir.»

Doctor Schulte sighs again. «I suppose you will be too busy to continue these lessons.»

Hermann rubs his neck. «Actually, sir, I believe I will have enough time, even with my classes.»

Doctor Schulte brightens like one spotlighted. «Truly?»

Hermann nods.

«Wonderful! Will the same times be acceptable?»

«They will be fine, sir.»

«Doubly wonderful!» He _thump_ s his hands against the table, pushes to his feet. «You have given this old man the best news of his week!»

«It is only Tuesday, sir.»

Doctor Schulte 'pfft's, waves off the comment. «It will be hard to surpass, especially given my quiet days ahead.»

Hermann hums, leads the way to the foyer.

«Your family does not celebrate the holidays, do they?» Doctor Schulte bends for his shoes.

«Only my grandparents do, sir.»

«That is too bad.» The man stands, straightens his jacket, smiles. «You could use some of the food which comes with the celebrations.»

Hermann chuckles. «Thank you, sir. May your evening be pleasant.»

«It has been my pleasure, young man.» Doctor Schulte smiles, pats Hermann's arm. «You are one of the quickest studies of the Russian language I have been blessed to teach.»

Hermann ducks his head. «Surely you overstate matters.»

«Not me!» He laughs quietly. «Inflating egos leads to explosions and I am much too old to deal with that sort of mess.»

«Thank you, sir.»

«You have earned the praise, Mr Gottlieb. In fact, you are picking up Russian so quickly I am sorely tempted to add Yiddish to your curriculum, just to take advantage of that magnificent brain of yours.»

Hermann blushes, shifts his feet.

«There are places for modesty and places for pride, young man. **This** is one for pride.»

Hermann looks up, puts his shoulders back.

«That is better. I will see you on the twentieth.»

«Yes, sir. See you then.»

Doctor Schulte bows and saunters through the door Hermann opens for him.

Hermann closes up, locks the door, and lets his shoulders drop. He sighs, trudges back to the dining room, gathers his books and plods to his bedroom.

A box waits on his desk.

Hermann frowns, stows the supplies on the shelf, shuffles back to the doorway, hollers, „Bastien?“

„„What?““

„Where'd this package come from?“

„„Courier brought it while you were working!““

„Th—“

„„I signed your name!““

Hermann rolls his eyes. „Thank you!“

„„You're welcome~!““

He parts the tape and opens the lid.

A note atop a layer of waxed paper.

May the new term be a worthy adventure! These should help you keep up your strength.

Chag sameach,  
Oma and Opa

Ps. Don't let Bastien eat them all.

Hermann laughs, checks his wall calendar.

Opa and Oma would already have left for their kosher retreat by now.

He makes a mental note, parts the paper, revealing a half-dozen jam-filled pastries. He lifts one out, takes a nibble, squees.

Quince rugelach, well-made.

„„What's in the box?““ yells Bastien.

„Socks!“ Hermann calls back around another mouthful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Heather Cowper](https://www.flickr.com/photos/heatheronhertravels/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/heatheronhertravels/2320815000/)
> 
> The holiday in question here is Passover, which begins at sundown this day. In their note, Hermann's grandparents sign off by wishing him a 'joyous festival' in Hebrew, a traditional greeting/closing for any Jewish holiday.


	46. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann starts classes in Berlin by ignoring his lecture to write a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- run! — Tams -

Hermann sulks in the front seat, bag of books and notebooks and pens tucked in the footwell.

„Meet me here at seventeen-hundred,“ Father commands as he pulls the car to the kerb, „and don't forget your lunch with Dietrich at noon.“

„Yes, Father,“ mumbles Hermann as he levers himself out and grabs his rucksack.

Father grunts; Hermann shuts the door; Father drives away.

Hermann sighs, resettles his bag, and starts his limp toward his first lecture of what promises to be a very long day.

He finds the auditorium easily enough and claims a seat on the aisle in the back row near an exit. A moment to tuck away his cane, a few more seconds to fish his supplies from his bag and arrange them on the writing surface, and he still has ten minutes to kill before the lecture begins.

He sighs again.

The other students eventually file in.

Hermann picks up a pencil, doodles a Penrose triangle in the margin of his notebook, idly watches the others chatter among themselves.

He's mid-way through an impossible cube when the lecturer arrives.

Professor Doctor Becker is young and enthusiastic and definitely knows his material, but, unfortunately, it's material Hermann mastered the previous semester at Manchester.

Hermann flicks his eyes around the room.

No one's watching him.

With a small smile, he flips to a clean page and puts pencil to paper.

18 Apr 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

I'm sitting in my first lecture at the TU and it's nearly a reprise of Doctor Jones' class. I'll have to talk to the registrar about that. I probably should've checked the course descriptions before the start of the term, but I just couldn't face it.

I suspect the rest of my schedule will be similarly dull as my father, of course, chose my classes for me and he's likely underestimated my abilities. Again.

Hermann frowns. He digs in his rucksack, extracts his schedule, skims. Stifles a groan.

Dear God, he's signed me up for his Introduction to Robotic Design course, not a single physics or mathematics lecture, and the minimum number of credit hours.

No way in fucking Hell.

Registrar, here I come.

More positively, one of my language tutors, Doctor Schulte (Russian) has agreed to continue working with me evenings. That should provide some diversion from this mess.

In any case, I'd rather be with you.

Gardening, cleaning, and painting would be a welcome change of pace.

I hope you've mellowed toward the tasks and are finding a Scottish spring to your liking. All the fresh air has hopefully been helping you catch up on your sleep, as well.

Has there been any further word from Rhys on your collective search for lodgings for the next term? I'm exceedingly curious to know what your living situation will be.

Mine will undoubtedly remain the same for the foreseeable future.

Well, except Father has dismissed Mrs Koch (again) and hired Mrs Krüger (again), so the quality of meals should improve. Mrs Koch is a wizard with cakes, but feeding two young men is not her strongest suit. Mrs Krüger, however, seems determined fatten us up like beef cattle. (Bastien loves her for it.)

Speaking of Bastien, he thanks you for the birthday greetings you included in your last letter.

Motion all over his peripheral.

The other students are packing up and Professor Doctor Becker is erasing the board.

With a sigh, Hermann gathers his things and trails the flow of traffic from the auditorium.

He has an hour before he's to meet Dee for lunch so he shuffles to the nearest library, finds a table near a window, digs out his laptop, connects to the wireless network, emails the registrar's office for an appointment, then picks up his letter where he left off.

Time and words and pages fly by.

He stops to shake out his hand, checks his watch—eeps and rushes to finish.

I'm running short on time before I have to post this note, so I must say goodbye for now.

Pass my greetings and best wishes on to your family, Trinity, Rhys, and Vigsai.

417.

With love,  
Hermann

He folds the pages, tucks them in a folder, wakes his laptop.

The registrar will see him that afternoon.

Right in the middle of Father's lecture period.

Hermann smirks, dashes off a reply, gathers his things, and sets out for the café.

He finds no sign of Dee, but Sabine sits at a table along the wall, nose in a textbook and cup of tea at her elbow. „Good afternoon,“ he greets.

„Hermann! Sit, sit!“

He eases himself down, settles his rucksack between his knees.

„Dee sends his apologies, but something came up at the hospital and he asked me to meet you instead. He suggests saying 'It was pleasant' if your father asks how lunch was.“

Hermann fiddles with the menu.

„How was your first lecture?“

He shrugs.

Sabine hides a smile in pouring Hermann tea. „Must be a relief to get out of the house at least.“

Hermann smiles a laugh.

She tops up her own cup, sets down the teapot. „I have something for you.“

Hermann's heart flutters.

Sabine passes over an envelope.

Dear Hermann,

This should get to you about the time your lectures start, if the pattern holds, so good luck and may they be hard enough to keep you interested!

Hermann snorts.

I'm doing alright but Fen-fen's losing a thumbnail thanks to the fact she's utterly useless with a hammer. She's vowed never to touch one again.

I'm giving her a month.

Well, maybe "alright" is a bit of an overstatement. I managed to get one of the worst sunburns of my life—in bloody April!—working in the back garden. Ginger might be honest Scottish colouration but it sure as fuck sucks for working under the sun. It hurt to move for nearly four whole days. All the aloe in the city couldn't help.

This may be part of why I stargaze, yea? I get to be outside at a time there's no chance of getting burned.

Stars! That's right! I've got my summer job lined up! The city Science Center's hired yours truly to lead tours through the planetarium starting the day after the semester ends. I've got a job using my education!!! (I strike a heroic pose.)

And Fen-fen said it would never happen.

Rhys has been too busy to talk to me (some friend!), but Iggy's been chatty. Dr Marsh called her again, this time offering her a summer research job (with pay!) and a TA job for next term. For some reason, she's still only thinking about it. Do you have any idea how fast I'd jump at a chance like that? Sonic boom, seriously.

And now Mum's yelling that I'm supposed to get my ass downstairs so I can help her move the sitting room furniture. Again. Apparently the sofa needs to be against the other other wall.

Love to Bunny and the rest of your family (except your dad, of course).

425 days to go—and they can't go fast enough for me.

With everything I have,  
Edan

10 Apr. '06  
Glasgow

Hermann takes a deep breath, eases Edan's letter back into its envelope, slides it over to Sabine.

She picks it up, holds it gently. „Do you have anything for me?“

Hermann nods, retrieves his letter from his bag, and offers it.

Sabine accepts. „Where am I sending it?“

„Manchester, please.“

She tucks it and Edan's note into her purse. „Are you hungry?“

„ **Starving.** “

„A bowl of soup, maybe? They serve a great, huge vegetable stew.“

„That would be lovely.“

„I'll be right back.“ Sabine pushes off, heads to the counter.

Hermann sighs, stares at her purse—and the letters inside—with an aching heart for a moment. Then he digs out his laptop, connects to the free wifi, and searches for better courses to fill his schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [JJ Hall](https://www.flickr.com/photos/the_junes/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/the_junes/141211130/)
> 
> Returning readers might notice that a lot of this chapter used to be part of a chapter called "Letters". Well, ace reality-checker artificiallifecreator noticed that school terms across Europe vary wildly, so I had to push some dates and events around to make them line up properly with the way the world actually works. So, instead of taking place in January, Hermann's first day of classes—and the start of the second semester at TU Berlin—would be in mid-April.


	47. Prickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan expresses his concerns over the new man in Hermann's life and has a bit of an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 April 2006  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- a worn-out Paisley @ show & tell (14/07/18, LA) -

Edan and Rhys shuffle one spot closer to the counter.

"I don't think we'll make it in time," yawns Edan. "I'm gonna collapse without caffeine."

"You had coffee at lunch."

"That dishwater was a slur upon the name of the noble bean."

"Dramatic much?"

"Desperate's more like it." Edan yawns again, wider. "I was up 'til fuck-all o'clock trying to get my head around maths so I don't fall behind."

"Still working with Justin?"

"Still working with Justin."

"Sounds almost like you've got a new man in your life."

Edan hunches his shoulders as they take a step forward. "Not me, but Hermann's got a new pen pal."

"Ooo~. Someone sounds jealous."

"Can you **blame** me? His dad actually **wants** him to talk to this kid," grumbles Edan. "He's apparently some kinda **genius** , too: Hermann's age and **already** at a big American university. Not to mention he's a **musician**." Runs a hand through his hair. "I'm an average student at a middling uni—"

"You're understating a bit on both counts, I believe."

"— **and** I can't even properly **talk** to him. How'm I s'posed to compete?"

"You think his dad actually suggested he write to someone **decent** , let alone a soul as charming as yourself?"

"I'm worried, alright?"

"I'm sure it'll work out for the best."

"Is that a warning he's gonna dump me?"

"I was trying to be hopeful about the situation, but take it how you will."

Edan huffs, curls up tighter.

They creep nearer as another patron departs with something with a whiff of chocolate.

The hairs on Edan's nape prickle.

He glances—locks eyes with a girl on the other side of the cafe.

A girl trapped between the wall and a bloke leaning **way** too close.

"Help me," she mouths.

Edan pokes Rhys, tilts his head. "I'm gonna do something about that."

"It's not your problem."

"I'm gonna make it mine."

"Gingersnap ...."

Edan strolls over, puts on his best sheepish expression, says, "Sorry I'm late, sweet. You ready to go?"

She nods, shoulders softening, and fumbles her stuff together.

The bloke glowers at him.

Edan smiles as non-threateningly as he can.

"Excuse me, 'scuse me." She squeaks past the still-scowling bloke.

Edan links their arms, heads the out the door.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You're welcome. Sorry I didn't notice sooner."

"Not—"

She jumps.

"—to interrupt the moment," says Rhys, bracketing her, "but matey-boy's in pursuit. I'll escort the lady to safety while you handle him, Gingersnap, violence being more your expertise."

Edan rolls his eyes, extracts himself, turns.

Rhys keeps himself and the girl moving away.

""Will he be alright?""

""He'll be **fine** : he's from Glasgow.""

""What's that—""

Matey-boy stomps into Edan's space, looks him dead in the eye, growls, "You're not her boyfriend."

"Neither are you."

"You made sure of that, ay?"

Edan shrugs.

"Where d'you get off messing with another bloke's chances?"

"That was more like harassment—or assault—than flirting."

Matey scoffs. "They **like** it when you're aggressive."

"Not the ladies I know."

"A ginger nonce like you wouldn't know shit about girls."

"I left my rainbow at home this morning, so how'd you know I'm gay?"

Matey snarls, cocks back his arm—

Edan spins on his toes and **runs**.

""I'll get you, ye dick-sucking cunt!""

"Ye have t'catch me first!" He turns the first corner, hops a low fence, monkeys over a garden wall, and cuts into a lane that'll take him back to campus.

He arrives at the residence without taking a deep breath, lets himself in, skips to the lounge for a well-deserved gloat.

And gloat he does until Rhys says, "I suppose you're proud of yourself," and flops into an armchair.

Edan laces his fingers behind his head, glows. "I **am** rather chuffed with my performance. The girl got away from the creep, no one got hurt—"

"You owe me ten pounds."

Edan sits straight, drops his hands. "I what?"

"Ten pounds for the cab fare required for her to make complete her escape."

"Why do **I** —"

"You're the one who wanted to play hero, so you're the one who gets to pay."

Edan sulks back into the cushions. "You'll have to wait until the end of the month. I'm broke."

"How were you going to buy fancy coffee?"

"I thought it was your treat."

"You would've gotten a nasty surprise if you'd made it to the counter then."

"Seriously? You would've let me suffer?"

"Without feeling the **slightest** twinge."

Edan yawns, pushes to his feet.

"Where're you going?"

"The free alternative to coffee."

"Iggy's emergency stash of instant? Again?"

" **No.** Bed."

"Don't you have a lab in a quarter-hour?"

Edan freezes mid-step. " **Fuck!** "

"I'll put the kettle on for you."

"Thanks," sighs Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [scpetrel](https://www.flickr.com/photos/scpetrel/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/scpetrel/4599363995/)
> 
> Edan's actions are cribbed from [this Tumblr post](http://3fluffies.tumblr.com/post/154102709010/brittajj26-ladyflowdi). He was rather more successful with the ploy than I was expecting when I threw him into the situation. I really thought Rhys would have to come rescue him.


	48. Flashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's correspondence with Newton proves distracting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- street art (22/7/13, Melbourne) — Jackson J -

Hermann leans back in his chair, drums his fingers on the library worktable, frowns at his laptop screen, the example code copied from Doctor Umarov's projection very **nearly** making sense.

The idea coales—shatters as an item on the taskbar flashes.

He sighs, internally curses himself for leaving his email open, clicks into it anyway, works his way through the cipher.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** Lovely weather today

It's totally YOU'RE fault I'm going to fail my english exam. I'll disappoint Dr. Baxter and I don't want to do that because he's the first person to make this shit LEARNABLE. But he's given up on my spelling. That's what spellchecker is for dude.

SIGH.

This's the only thing holding me back now. High school fucking sucks dude. I want to get to college fulltime ASAP enough of this pissing around.

Lectures. Whats the point of lectures. This professor asshole threw me out of the room this week because I was interrupting him too much. So he says. I have to Skype in now which I like better anyway. I can record the droning and watch the important bits when I can focus better on them.

Hermann rolls his eyes, encodes his reply.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

How, exactly, is it **my** fault you cannot pass an English exam?

In addition, how can someone who speaks English a majority of the time struggle to pass a course on the language?

He clicks 'send', goes back to his notes.

Aha!

Flashing.

Hermann grumbles.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

It's YOUR FAULT because I have to learn Russian now and Uncle Ilia isn't the greatest teacher but we don't have the money to hire me another tutor so I'm wasting too much time on this shit.

So IT'S YOUR FAULT.

Happy now motherfucker?

Oh wait that' syour dad.

BRAINBLEACH.

BREAINBLEEEEEEEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Enjoy mental images of your dad having sex asshole. ^u^

Hermann shakes the picture from his head, growls.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

You can't blame **me** for **your** inability to handle another course of study. It's important to know and respect one's limits.

You're home-schooled? If so, it seems we have something in common after all. I, too, was educated privately until I passed the Abitur and began university.

I remain curious as to why you are struggling with formal study of your mother tongue.

With a sigh, Hermann closes the programming environment **and** his lecture notes, opens his draft essay for Doctor Schulte. He reorients himself, adds the next three sentences.

Flashing.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

I can SPEAK English just fine, thank you very much. Its the grammar and spelling shit that keeps throwing me off. Like I said, even Dr. Baxter's given up on tha t one.

Yeah, I'm homeschooled. I go too fast to sit in a class with all the normals. They just hold me back. And the teachers got annoyed that I couldn't keep quiet when they were getting shit wrong or didn't answer my questions etc etc. So Dad, Ilia and the neighbors make sure I pass the tests at the end of the year and otherwise stay out of my way.

Dad says homeschooling's illegal in Germany so how'd you manage that?

Oh yeah! English is my SECOND language anyway. I was born in Berlin and only started with English when I had to start school here. So there.

You figured out a major yet? Anything tickling your fancy yet?

"Why must you be a broken record?" mutters Hermann.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

I was educated outside of the school system because I was diagnosed with severe sensory issues and anxiety in addition to being sickly. My father applied for and received permission to have me home-schooled by tutors. My problems had resolved themselves well enough by the time I passed the Abitur to join the mainstream population.

Hermann grits his teeth against the old lie.

Since it is only the second week of the term, I have yet to decide on my major. I doubt I will even begin to seriously consider declaring a programme before the the summer break.

He sends the reply, returns to Russian.

Another six sentences join their fellows.

Flashing.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

It's pretty cool we have something in common besides being college students. Home-schooling cause we're not normals.

Hermann winces.

Anxiety's bad, dude. Glad that's cleared up.

I've got these WICKED mood swings on top of my ADHD that makes life SUCK a lot. Everyone says it's hormones and I'll grow out of them. Whatevs.

You REALLY need to start thinking about your calling dude. Life's to short to fuck around in random classes.

Hey why has your brother stopped writing? I was getting a kick out of messing with him.

Hermann blinks, mumbles, "Are you truly **this** oblivious?"

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

I will choose my programme when I am ready to do so. Meanwhile, I am completing my general requirements so my time is not wasted.

If it will stop your pestering, my natural inclination is toward astrophysics or mathematics, though it remains to be seen if either will be my 'calling'.

Bastien does not enjoy your 'messing with him' and has broken off contact because of it. If you treat him with respect and kindness, he will resume correspondence.

He lightly taps his fingers against the keys, decides against adding an explanation for Bastien's aversion to even teasing abuse, and clicks 'send'.

Back to work—

Flashing.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

I have to head to my shift at the aquarium.

And if you make one more crack about tentacles I SWEAR I'm gonna fly over there and fuck you up.

Hermann snorts.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Lovely weather today

Enjoy your date with the cephalopods.

Congratulating himself for his restraint, Hermann closes his email and goes back to work on his essay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Tony & Wayne](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bonitoclub/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bonitoclub/9342396920/).
> 
> It's so much fun writing these two snarking at each other again. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.


	49. Comical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matching wits with Newton gets Bastien in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Jasper where she shouldn't be (12 May 2025) — Hasi -

Hermann lets himself into the house, knee and wings aching after a long day of crisscrossing campus, toes off his shoes.

From upstairs, shouting.

Father's roar.

Bastien's yowl.

He sighs, limps to his bedroom, dumps his rucksack on his desk chair. Slowly eases from his 'outside' clothes, peels off his binder, sighs in relief as he beats his wings slowly.

Yelling continues.

He slips into his pajamas, digs his physics text and his glasses from his rucksack, heaves himself onto his bed, opens to his page, stares blankly.

Heavy footfalls descend the stairs; a door slams.

Silence.

Hermann counts down from twenty, then creeps upstairs, peers into Bastien's room.

Bastien lies face-down on his bed with a pillow clamped over his head, knuckles white and whole body shaking.

Hermann settles on the mattress, asks quietly, „What happened?“

„„ **Father** happened.““

„Come out here and talk to me, please.“

„„No.““

„Bastien, please.“

„„No.““

Hermann rolls his eyes. „Fine. Stay like that. What did he do?“

„„He tore up my comics and banned me from the internet again.““

„Why?“

„„He said they were disrespectful and unseemly and I was wasting my time on art when I should be studying.““

Hermann gazes heavenward, asks for restraint, says as calmly as he can, „What comics were these?“

„„Stuff I was working on to show Newt. 'The Adventures of Captain Infodump'.““

„Oh dear. I take it you were giving Newton his own medicine in graphic form?“

Bastien digs himself out, sits up next to Hermann, wails, „He **likes** them! I tried to explain, but Father wouldn't listen, **of** **course**.“

„You can't write to Newton anymore?“

„ **No!** “ Swings his heels against the bed frame. „And when Father remembers it, he'll rip up my sketchbook, too, and I don't wanna lose it. I worked so **hard** on those drawings.“

«I sneak it out to someplace safe for you.»

«Thanks,» mumbles Bastien.

«It's better than losing the work permanently, right?»

«Yea ... but how'm I supposed to practice without it?»

«You can work on scrap paper and I'll tuck it into the book when I can.»

Heavy footfalls ascend the stairs.

Bastien cringes. «He remembered already.»

«Where's the book?» Hermann hisses.

Bastien dives for his desk, pulls a small spiral-bound from under a drawer, queries.

Heavy footfalls in the hallway.

«Stuff it under my wings.»

Bastien lifts his shirt, wedges the book firmly among Hermann's scapulars—

Hermann clamps his wings tightly to his back; the edges of the cover dig in, but Hermann does. not. shift.

—yanks the shirt back into place, perches next to Hermann.

Father stands in the door, glowering.

„Go downstairs, Hermann.“

„We were practicing our French, Father.“

„Downstairs. Now.“

Hermann lowers his eyes—„Yes, sir.“—slinks out.

„„Where is your book of doodles?““ demands Father.

„„I'm not telling. You'll have to find it,““ smugs Bastien.

Hermann smirks, pads to his room as smoothly as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo (and drawing) by [Kate Merriman](https://www.flickr.com/photos/alluvia/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/alluvia/14052756240/).
> 
> Yep, Lars is still a jerk, but the boys are getting sneakier and more skilled with their rebellion. They grow up so fast ....


	50. Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien defies their Father even after a warning from Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 April 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- street art (21/11/11, Newtown) — Jackson J -

Bastien waits, lying on his side in bed, blankets up to his chin, his back to the closed door of his bedroom.

Father's footsteps come up the stairs, down the hall.

Washroom door closes.

Water runs.

Bastien yawns.

Water stops.

Washroom door opens.

Father's footsteps approach, pause at the door, start up again, fade.

Father's door closes.

Bastien counts down from one hundred, then slides from under the covers, gets his feet on the floor, pads to the door, eases it open, peeps out.

The hall is dark; no light leaks from under Father's door.

He bites down on a snicker, tiptoes to the stairs, to the ground floor—

No light under Manny's door.

—to Father's office. Inside, he flips on the light, makes a beeline for the rubbish bin.

Sure enough, the shredded bits of his comics sit on top.

Bastien gathers them—they're all there—cradles them to his chest, turns of the light, slips out.

««What—»»

Bastien jumps, just barely **doesn't** scream.

««—on Earth are you doing?»» whispers Manny from somewhere behind him.

Bastien turns, fails to spot Manny in the dark. «Saving my comics from the trash.»

««Did you find them?»»

Bastien sniffs.

««Give my the pieces. I'll repair them and add them to your sketchbook.»»

Bastien shakes his head. «I've got another idea.»

„„Bunnyyyy ....““

«It'll be fine.»

««Please don't make Father more angry with you.»»

«I won't.»

Manny sighs. ««Goodnight, Bastien.»»

«'night, Manny.» He turns, sneaks back up the stairs, into his room, closes the door—quietly—behind.

He finds the torch he set on his desk, _click_ s it on and works quickly with the sticky tape to put the pages back together.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Bastien neatens the stack, then tri-folds the papers, and slips them into the already-addressed envelope. He wedges it into the gap between the middle drawer and the side of the desk to wait for Dee's next visit.

Bastien climbs back into bed, nestles under his quilts, and smiles into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped for a photo by [newtown grafitti](https://www.flickr.com/photos/newtown_grafitti/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/newtown_grafitti/6376240281/).
> 
> Because Bastien can _not_ let an injustice stand, even as a pre-teen.


	51. Gloss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann sends Edan a birthday gift and Edan responds ... creatively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 May 2006  
> Manchester, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1290.jpg [Rainbow Bridge, Bellahouston, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

With a sigh, Edan trumps into the dorm foyer, manages to unlock his post box despite sleep-deprived clumsiness.

"Bloody maths," he grumbles.

A small, brown-wrapped package fills the entire cubbie.

Edan wrestles it free, perks up immediately at the Berlin postmark beaming up at him. He skips to his room, lets himself in, floats down on his bunk.

A quick hug for the envelope and he tears it open.

A pair of rainbow-striped socks slither out, followed by a note written in an energetic, familiar scrawl.

29 Apr 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Happy birthday (or near enough)!

I wish you a beautiful day with all my heart. May the enclosed gift help to that end.

406 days to go.

In love and solidarity,  
Hermann

Edan laughs so hard he sees stars.

Then he wipes away tears, kicks off his trainers, strips his boring, white socks and exchanges them for Hermann's gift. With warm and fluffy thoughts, he flops down, cuddles up to his pillow, and settles in for a pre-lab nap, hoping it's spiced with dreams of Hermann.

Edan snorts awake when Rhys _bang_ s open the door.

"Rise an' shine, Gingersnap."

"Workin' on it." Edan sits up, yawns, stretches.

"Those're cute socks," says Iggy. "They new?"

"Birthday present from Hermann," sighs Edan.

"Aww ... that's **adorable** ," she coos.

"I know~!"

"How're you going to thank him?" asks Rhys.

Edan think think thinks, lights up!

"Uh oh ... this'll be good ...."

Edan sticks his tongue out at Rhys.

Iggy rolls her eyes. "Infants, both of you."

"I know he is, but what am I?"

"A lovestruck dork is what you are."

Edan laughs. "Guilty enough, I guess." Holds out a hand to Iggy. "Can I borrow your lip gloss a moment?"

Iggy raises an eyebrow. "What're you planning to do with it?"

"I'm gonna send Hermann a kiss."

Iggy squees, passes over the tube of pink gel.

Rhys shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

Edan dives to his desk, fishes out a sheet of be-unicorned paper and a pen—

Dearest Hermann,

Thank you for the rainbows!

Here's something for you—

Leaves a big space.

401!

Love,  
Edan

4 May '06  
Manchester

He applies pink tint and presses his lips to the paper.

"Awwwww ...."

Edan beams.

"What a **dork**."

" **Rhys!** "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Glasgowfoodie](https://www.flickr.com/photos/emmamykytyn/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/emmamykytyn/2354819575/)
> 
> Help! Edan won't stop being adorkable!


	52. Olfactory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann experiments with a new soap and discovers water isn't the only thing his wings are great at absorbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 May 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- decorations are up! (29/09/23, Koffiefontein) -

Hermann shivers in his bathers, but smiles at Bastien, similarly dressed and standing in the bathtub, and asks, „Are we ready for this?“

„Yup!“ Bastien flashes thumbs up.

Hermann stretches, lifts down the handheld shower head, passes it over—

Bastien starts the water.

—sits on the rim of the tub carefully holding his wings over the basin.

„Thank you for helping me.“

„„You're welcome.““

 _Splish_ ing as Bastien tests the temperature.

„„You wanna check it?““

„I trust you.“

„„Then, here we go~!““

Body temperature—perfect—water flows over and between the feathers of his left wing, then the right.

Hermann leans forward to offset the steadily increasing weight of the waterlogged limbs.

„„I think I got it all.““

„It certainly feels like you did,“ drawls Hermann, shoulders aching from the pull against them. „Time for soap, then.“

„„How'd you do this while you were in England?““

„Rather poorly.“ Hermann grimaces. „I missed a lot of places with the shampoo.“

Bastien makes a sad noise.

„What're you thinking?“

„„I'm thinking you'll need to take me with you when you go back,““ he snickers.

„I'd love to, but we'll have to see if we can make it work.“

„„I don't take up much space and I don't eat mu—““

„You eat like an entire football side, Bunny.“

„„I'm **growing**!““

„Sideways.“

„„I don't **have** to help, you know.““

„My apologies. Please continue eating like an entire football—“

„„I'm go—““

„Sorry, sorry.“

Bastien huffs.

Squeaking as his shifts and nabs the soap bottle.

„„You're **sure** you want to use this stuff?““

„Yes.“

„„ **Really** sure?““

Hermann twists around. „Yes. Is there a reason I shouldn't?“

Bastien looks away, shuffles his feet. „It, uh, smells a little girly?“

„What does that mean?“

„I think this is the same stuff Sofie uses?“

Hermann frowns. „May I smell it again?“

Bastien hands over the bottle and Hermann fills his lungs.

Strawberry, maybe a smidge of vanilla ... and very, **very** sweet.

"If he's fucking with me, I'll ...," mutters Hermann, passing it back.

„What was that?“

„Nothing.“

Bastien crosses his arms over the bottle. „You said one of the words my English teacher says never to say.“

Hermann faces front again. „Well, they're wrong. 'Nothing' is sometimes the best thing to say.“

Silence.

Hermann smirks, waits for it.

„„That's not funny.““

„Yes, it is.“

Bastien heaves a spectacular sigh. „„I'm gonna start soaping now so I can get away from you and your 'jokes'.““

„Awww ....“

„„Shush.““

Bastien makes quick (at least it's quicker than Hermann could manage on his own) work of soaping up and then rinsing out Hermann's feathers, then climbs out of the tub and digs under the sink for the hair dryer.

Hermann tries to press as much water as he can from his wings with a towel.

They still drip and, even with the dryer, take an **age** to return to their normal weight.

Hermann gives them an experimental flutter, tells Bastien over the whirring, „That's enough.“

The ticklish air flow stops.

„Thank you, Bunny. I'll clean up in here.“

„Cool.“ Bastien climbs out the tub, grabs a towel from the rack, wraps it around his waist. „I'll be in the sitting room after I change if you need me.“

Hermann acknowledges.

Bastien skips off.

Hermann takes a deep breath—strawberry-scented!—pushes to his feet. A quick flick and he has a dry towel around his waist. He gathers up sodden feathers from the bathtub, stuffs them into the biohazard box beneath the sink. Hangs the wettest towels on the shower rod to dry a bit, drapes the drier ones over the edge of the tub. Winds up the dryer cord and returns it to its place. After a last check for feathers (none found), he takes his cane and shuffles to his room.

Towel and bathers in the hamper, he layers up in a binder, shirt, and jumper, tucks his programming text under his arm, and heads to the sitting room.

Two steps through the entry and Bastien whips around.

„What's—“

„Oh my God, Manny!“

His video game makes a sad, 'game over' noise.

„What?“

„I can smell you from over **here**!“ Grimaces. „ **And** you smell like a princess party.“

Hermann blinks. „What, exactly, does a princess party smell like?“

„ **Pink** , Manny. You smell **pink**.“ Wrinkles his nose. „No one's gonna take you seriously.“

Hermann's heart sinks as he drops himself in a chair. „I'll just have to hope it wears off before Monday, then.“

„ **Definitely.** “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Sharon Drummond](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dolmansaxlil/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dolmansaxlil/12030924125/)
> 
> This little adventure was prompted by a comment from MoiraColleen about if the be-winged Hermann would have a distinctive, feathery smell. Near as I can figure from a lengthy trawl of the internet is that owls smell mostly of their environment with a bit of a musty, dusty overtone. Now that is something I never thought I would know or even need to know.


	53. Aroma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan conducts his own experiment with a different soap, with results just as mixed as Hermann's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 May 2006  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- Runaway Princess! (29/01/18, Kimberley) — Griet -

Edan steps into the shower stall, surveys his supplies: shampoo (gentle formula, chamomile scent), soap (lavender, oatmeal, and honey), washcloth (freshly laundered), towel (also freshly laundered and tossed over the wall of the cubicle), his own naked self. He bounces on his toes, twists on the water, and gets down to the work of cleaning up.

He sluices off, presses his nose to his arm, inhales deeply.

Shampoo, lavender, generic skin smell.

Edan frowns, tries again.

Same result.

He towels himself dry, tries again.

Same result, though now there's some detergent scent in the mix.

Edan frowns harder as he wraps the towel around his waist, gathers his stuff, and trumps back to his room. He works the door, locks up behind, demands, "Smell me."

Rhys doesn't look up from his book. "This isn't some sexual thing, is it?"

Edan rolls his eyes. "You're not my type. Just—"

"Not skinny **or** nerdy enough for you?"

"Just get down here and do it."

"Magic words."

"Please," sighs Edan.

Rhys grunts, climbs from his bunk to the floor. He leans close, nose near the base of Edan's neck.

Edan giggles, fights an urge to curl up.

Rhys straightens away. "Mite ticklish, are we?"

"Maybe," Edan grumps. "What do I smell like?"

"Hmm ...." Rhys closes his eyes, rocks on his heels. "Baby shampoo, lavender soap, and the barest hint of ... it's on the tip of my tongue ...."

Edan taps his foot.

" **That's** it." Rhys smirks. "It's **ginger** ... from Scotland, I believe. A most distinct—"

"Don't make me punch you."

Rhys signals surrender. "Save your hands for more delicate pursuits."

Edan huffs as he blushes.

"Trying to smell like Hermann, Gingersnap?"

"Yea ... got him to tell me everything he uses, but ...."

"No chalk dust."

"No chalk dust," agrees Edan.

"Maybe it's a chemistry thing: how the stuff interacts with his and only his skin creates the aroma."

"But, **chalk**?"

Rhys shrugs. "Why does every old person's house smell the same? One of life's many mysteries, that. Maybe this's another one."

Edan sighs, shuffles to his dresser for fresh clothes.

Behind him, Rhys chuckles.

"What's so funny?" He steps into his pants.

"The combination is actually rather pleasant on you, a little old man-ly, but pleasant."

Edan sparkles around. "Really?"

"Yea, I think I like it better than your usual. It's more masculine, much less fruity," drawls Rhys.

Edan flings the damp towel at him. "Very funny, Swansea."

"Seriously, though. You usually carry the whiff of a princess party with you."

"What does **that** mean?"

"You smell **pink**. I'm surprised you don't have a permanent entourage of pre-teen girls."

"That would be **brilliant**!"

"Do I need to put you on the register?"

" **No.** Just—" Waves extravagantly. "—I'm just picturing myself leading groups of young ladies to the stars." He sighs, wistful.

"Wonderful. It's not even finals and you've already gone mad. Delusions of grandeur."

"Dream big or stay awake, I say."

"That makes **no** bloody sense."

"I don't care~!"

Rhys rolls his eyes. "Finish dressing so we can get to dinner without an indecency charge."

"Fiiine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Elizabeth](https://www.flickr.com/photos/table4five/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/table4five/2623199182/).
> 
> Not much to say here. Just another little thing to add some small details to the story.


	54. Attractant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann discovers an odd side effect of Edan's strawberry soap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 May 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- birds of a (pink!) feather (03/10/07, Kimberley) -

Hermann climbs down from the bus, hobbles over to the front gate of Bastien's school, props himself against the wall to wait.

Traffic hums past; wind shuffles leaves and teases Hermann's feathers.

He rolls his shoulders and sighs.

The end-of-day bell _clang_ s.

Hermann shifts his grip on his cane, shuffles his feet.

Laughter, running feet.

The first children dart past.

Shrieks, happy.

Another knot of students.

Someone slinks up, greets, „Um, Hermann?“

He straightens. „Good afternoon, Miss Sofie.“

Sofie smiles, then lowers her eyes and scuffs her feet. „Bastien asked me to tell you he'll be a little late. Director Doctor Schmidt is talking to him.“

„Please tell me he wasn't caught passing notes.“

„That's not—it was, umm ... Niklas was pulling Katharina's hair during quiet study, so Bastien pushed him out of his chair.“

Hermann gazes heavenward and counts down from ten.

„You're not mad at him, too, are you?“

„Not at all,“ Hermann assures. „I'm only surprised it doesn't happen more often.“

„Yea, he's kinda heroic.“

„Not **quite** the word I was thinking of, but close enough.“

„Who're you talking to, Sofie?“ asks another girl.

„This's Bastien's brother, Hermann,“ replies Sofie.

„Pleased to meet you, Miss ...?“

„Laura.“

„Miss Laura.“

She turns to Sofie, stage whispers, „He looks just like Bastien.“

„Mmhmm.“

Hermann suppresses an eye roll.

„They're both really cute,“ adds Laura.

„Mmhmm!“

Hermann can do nothing about the blush which heats his ears.

„Sofie! Laura!“ A third girl skips up, double-takes Hermann. „Hi, Bastien's brother!“

„Hello, Miss ...?“

„Julia!“

„Miss Julia.“

She glows, then sniffs the air.

Hermann braces—

„Who smells like strawberries?“ Julia glances around, lasers in on Hermann. „Is it you, Bastien's brother?“

„I, uh—“ Hermann clears his throat. „I believe I do—“

Julia squeals, hops on the spot. „What perfume is that? I wanna smell that good!“

Hermann blinks rapidly. „Wha—what?“

„Your perfume! I want my Mummy to buy some for me so I can smell pretty, too!“

„Boys don't wear **perfume** ,“ scolds Laura. „It's called **cologne**.“

„Whatever. It smells so **pretty**!“

Hermann rubs the back of his neck. „It's a strawberry shower gel sold at Edeka. The kind that comes in a white bottle with a label mostly in English.“

Julia nods with enthusiasm.

„Did you use it on your hair, too?“ asks Sofie.

„I want my hair to smell like strawberries,“ sighs Laura.

„Umm, no, I didn't. I used my regular shampoo. It's chamomile-scented.“

Someone's pocket _shimmer_ s.

„Ohmygoodnesswe'regonnamissthebus!“ squeaks Laura, grabbing Sofie and Julia by the arms and dragging them toward the shelter.

„'bye, Bastien's brother!“ calls Julia.

Hermann sketches a wave, exhales shakily and slouches back against the wall when the trio disappear into the waiting vehicle.

Another bus comes and goes before Bastien shtumps up beside him.

„Hey.“

„Are you alright?“

„'m fine.“ Bastien shrugs. „Or I will be 'til Father hears about it.“

„You should've just told the teacher what was happening.“

Bastien's eyes flame. „Mrs Wolf **told** him to stop. **Twice.** And he was **hurting** her.“

Hermann gestures for calm, starts them for home.

Bastien stomps along at a matching pace.

„What's your punishment?“

„No free time this week or next and Director Doctor Schmidt is calling Father.“

Hermann winces.

„Yea, so I'm probably a dead man.“

„He's not going to kill you,“ sighs Hermann.

Bastien scoffs.

„He won't.“

„Yea, of course not. I'll just **wish** I was dead.“

Hermann's wrists itch; he stops walking. „Bastien. Don't **think** about that, let alone **say** it, even as a joke.“

Bastien cringes. „I'm not—I won't—“ He sighs. „Sorry, Manny. I remember my promise.“

„Me, too.“ Hermann smiles as kindly as he can. „We'll get each other through this.“

„Yea. Right. We will.“

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Winston Mcleod](https://www.flickr.com/photos/winston67/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/winston67/5497902136/in/photolist-dsDR8e-dTt2DH-9nQbL9-dKr5ZY-e1RkYH-zCEXjs-zEZaWc-yJ6BRV-zomFRN/).
> 
> For some reason, I really enjoy writing groups of small children chattering. They always turn out so _adorable_.


	55. Interlude: Gets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien's letter arrives at Newt's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 May 2006  
> Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York, USA

\- 「What a lovely kitty! I'm gonna wrestle it! — Feng, 2016/10/05, Hong Kong」 -

„„Newton! You have mail!““

Newt pauses the lecture, glides his chair to the door, pokes his head into the hall. „What is it?“

Dad strolls up, offers a thick envelope **covered** with stamps and ink. „From Berlin.“

Newt's heart does a happy little skip and he grabs it, rips it open, pulls out a handful of papers, each one held together with tape. „Aw, darn,“ he sighs.

„It not what you were hoping for?“

„Not quite. From the wrong brother.“

„Ah, **that's** who's writing you from Berlin. Can I see?“

Newt hands the pages over.

Dad reads, giggles. „These're **hilarious**.“ Points to Captain Infodump. „This's you?“

„Yeah. He kept threatening to do something like this so I dared him to actually, you know, **do** it.“

„The littler one did this?“ Dad passes the papers back.

„Yeah.“ Newt tosses them in the direction of his desk.

„A scientist and an artist ....“ Dad shakes his head. „His dad's almost as lucky as I am.“

„Don't forget the doctor and the engineer while you're at it.“

„How could I forget?“ Dad grins. „All he needs's a lawyer and he'll have the full Jewish family playset.“

Newt rolls his eyes, pushes his chair into a slow spin.

„The older boy's still writing, too?“

„At least one email a day, sometimes more.“ Newt frowns. „Except on Saturdays, but he won't explain why. It's not religious, before you ask. He just won't write me.“

„Maybe he has a family thing.“

Newt swings his feet. „They don't seem all that, uh, 'family-oriented'. Hermann's just—“ Huffs. „He can be a real douche sometimes: stuck up and stuffy and, well, **mean**. Like this not-writing-with-no-explanation thing.“

Dad's eyes light up and he gets **that** smile. „Newton, do you have a **crush**?“

„Maybe? He's—“ Newt chews his lip. „He's the first person my age I think really **gets** me. Just as smart and he can actually **focus** and get stuff done so he probably gets better grades than me, which's probably why he's full-time at college already. Second semester! Seriously!“

„You'll catch up.“

Newt scoffs, „I'll **pass** him.“

Dad makes the 'no offense' gesture. „I'm sure you will.“

Newt sniffs.

A deep breath and Dad says, „It's too bad it didn't work out between his dad and your mom.“

Newt puts his foot down. „Why do you even still care about her?“

„I still love her.“

„She **dumped** you. With a **baby**.“

He sighs in his 'not again, Newton' way. „I explained how she told me our first date if it came to a choice between a relationship and her career, she'd pick career, right?“

„Yeah, you did.“

„So, Monica did exactly what she said she'd do. I knew what I was getting into from the start.“ Dad shrugs, then grins. „ **You** were a bit of a surprise, though.“

Newt says—

„The best surprise of my life!“ Dad squashes Newt to his chest.

—squirms, „ **Daaaaad!** “

„Hold still!“

„I'm **sixteen**!“

„You're **never** too old for hugs!“

Newt rolls his eyes, but squeezes back.

Dad **finally** lets go, straightens. „I'll let you get back to studying.“

„Cool. This chemistry course is actually kinda interesting.“

„Something **not** biology—“

„It's 'dawn of life' chemistry, like, how soup turns into shrimp-things into lizards. That sort of thing.“

Dad shakes his head, 'of course'. „Then, I'll leave you to it. Remember, you're on your own for dinner tonight.“

Newt searches his memory, brightens. „Right! You're playing for that recital-thingie!“

„Just practice tonight. The show is next week.“

„Right!“

„I'll be back late.“

„Cool. Break a leg.“

Dad laughs, heads down the hall for the kitchen.

Newt scoots for the desk, nabbing the kid's comics from the floor on the way.

A sheet covered with writing flutters loose.

He picks it up.

Newt,

I was going to have these scanned and email them to you, but my father got upset when he saw them, tore them apart, and threw them in the trash. I saved the bits and put them back together and sent them this way.

He also said I can't write to you anymore. Actually, I can't send email to anyone anymore.

If you want more comics, tell Hermann and I'll mail them to you when I can smuggle them out.

Later,  
Bastien

28 April 2006  
Berlin

"What the **fuck**?" He smacks his screensaver off, dives into his email, types.

Stops.

Resets for 'code' and starts again.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** New dinosar found

WTF IS WRONG WITH YOUR DAD?

Ripping up the kid's art? Kicking him off email? Because of something I ASKED HIM TO DO?

That is several jumps BEYOND fucked up.

Like, I wish I could draw HALF as well as Junior.

I'm actually GLAD my mom dumped him now and I don't like my mom very well.

Seriously dude, how have you not killed him already? Or at least run away? Or called CPS? If he was like this with your mom I can TOTALLY see why she offed herself.

Dude is there anything I can do to help you guys? I know Im on the wrong side of an ocean, but still?

Newt chews his lip.

I think dealing with that asshole would break me. Seriously Hermann. I don't think I could survive what you have. Jesus Christ dude.

Newt swallows, taps 'send', hovers his cursor over the lecture video. "Fuck it," he grumbles and heaves himself to his feet and the living room and some piano to decompress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Jo](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kitschkitten/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kitschkitten/7208016228/).
> 
> I hadn't planned to visit Newt's New York home, but, well, it happened. Same with Newt's dad: he wasn't supposed to appear until much later, but he stuck himself right in.


	56. Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann sends Edan a rather exciting letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 June 2006  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1405.jpg [Loch Lomond from the slopes of Ben Lomond; recovered by 007] -

Edan drags himself into his dorm, dripping wet from the storm raging outside. He shakes he head, flinging water drops all over the post cubbies.

"Oi!"

And Rhys.

"Sorry, mate," says Edan, cringing.

"'s'not like I'm already drenched." Rhys unlocks his box, sighs, buttons it back up.

Edan works his open—squeals!

"Another missive from Beethoven to his immortal beloved?" drawls Rhys.

Happiest of sighs.

"And they call **me** a Romantic." Rhys opens the interior door. "C'mon, Gingersnap. Let's get you to the room so you can melt down in private."

Edan beams, bounces on his toes.

Rhys huffs, grabs him by the collar, and tows him to their room. He opens the door, shoves Edan inside.

Edan tangles his feet, goes down face-first onto his bunk.

""You're squishing it.""

Edan eeps, flips over, tears into the envelope.

24 May 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

I'm distressed to report the soap experiment was an utter fiasco. Something about my skin chemistry left me smelling like a walking bottle of children's perfume. It took four days and six showers dissipate.

Hopefully your attempt at replication met with more success or at least a less noticeable failure.

On the topic of success, Dr Umarov says I have much potential as a computer programmer and have taken to it like a fish to water. Father was almost proud, apparently, when he stopped Umarov to ~~check up on me~~ chat. I'd still rather be searching for Einstein-Rosen bridges with you, but I'm making the best of it.

The work is rather straightforward and interesting for the trance-like state coding can cause in me. It's as though I can almost forget I'm even a person when I'm absorbed.

The relative simplicity of programming leaves me enough cycles to continue my Russian (and fending off Dr Schulte's suggestions I add Yiddish).

Please don't suggest I learn Gaelic again; that's not something they offer here and I still can't find a suitable tutor. It would be fun to curse you out in the language of your homeland, however. Can you imagine what my accent would sound like? What a mangled mess!

Though I suppose you'd rather I croon endearments in your grandmother's tongue, yea? Like:

Tha mi gad ionndrainn mo ghràdh agus tha mi a 'cunntadh nan làithean gus an deach sinn a' faicinn a chèile a-rithist.

""Gingersnap.""

Edan jerks back into his room. "Wha?"

""Save it for later.""

"Wha?"

""You're doing that breathing thing that means you're thinking of wanking off—""

Edan's blood floods to his face.

""—but hold up fifteen minutes 'til I leave for that cram session.""

"Oh. Uh. Sure."

""Thank you most kindly.""

Edan rolls onto his front, props himself up on his elbows.

Shifts a bit.

Takes a deep, calming breath, resumes reading.

Hopefully, the online translator didn't feed me pure gibberish.

“That's just beautiful, lovely.”

Rhys grumbles something in Welsh.

"I'll speak whatever language I want."

""Not if you're expecting an answer from me.""

"I wasn't."

""Good, then.""

Edan huffs.

I have to ask a question which has been bothering me since your previous letter:

Why haven't you given up on me?

You can't see me, can't talk to me, and there are plenty of more attractive boys in Manchester and Glasgow for you. So why me?

I'm crippled, scarred, probably more than a little crazy, under house arrest in another country for another 381 days, and all we have with which to communicate are these blasted letters.

Edan rolls his eyes.

Then I remember our last night and the warmth of your hand holding mine and your strength as I rested against your side and I pray to the God I shouldn't believe in that you'll remain patient.

I want so badly to kiss you again—taste tea with lemon and honey on your breath, smell the strawberry on your skin. I want to practice kissing until I can kiss you properly breathless.

""You're doing it again.""

Edan scoffs.

""I mean it.""

"I'm not **doing** anything!"

""You're **thinking** about it.""

I want your arms around me and your words in my ear.

God, I miss you.

Edan bows his head, closes his eyes, pulls in lungfuls of air through his nose.

""Alright. I'm going.""

"Alright."

""Don't forget to clean up after yourself.""

"Shove off, Swansea."

""Shoving. **Gratefully.** ""

The door closes, the bolt _chack_ s.

Edan smiles to himself, turns onto his back, scoots up against the headboard, Hermann's letter in one hand, the other resting on his hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [welshmackem](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mervtheswerve/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mervtheswerve/3810421995/)
> 
> This time around Google assures me Hermann says "I miss you my love and I'm counting the days until we see each other again." in Scottish Gaelic.
> 
> Aww ... our little nerd is growing up. Time goes by so fast .... *wipes away a single tear*


	57. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing go-between for Hermann and Edan forces Bastien to confront his own uncomfortable position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 June 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- La Petite Danseuse de Quatorze Ans (30/11/26, Philadelphia) — Jackson J -

Bastien trudges to the director's office, shoulders up around his ears, heart in his throat, and creeps into the anteroom—

„Hey, Bunny.“

His head snaps up. „Dee? Why're you ...?“

„You forgot your lunch.“ Dee holds out a paper sack.

„I did?“

„Yep. So I raided Sabine's fridge and found you something.“

Bastien raises an eyebrow, accepts it. „Thanks.“

„If there's anything left over, save it for Manny.“

Cocks his head.

„He'll walk you home tonight, because I have to work.“

„Alriiiight.“ Brightens. „Do we have permission to eat out or go to the movies?“

„No such luck.“

„Darn.“

„Get back to class,“ laughs Dee, ruffles—

Bastien ducks, squawking, „Don't mess it up!“

—squeezes his shoulder, aims him for the door.

Bastien grumbles back to his classroom, stuffs the gift into his rucksack, and bides his time until lunch.

He sighs in at an empty cafeteria table, opens Dee's 'gift' to find two glorious sandwiches, an apple, and four cookies (chocolate chip!)—all of which he inhales. He checks the bottom of the bag: an envelope with 'Hermann' in square-ish letters in the front.

„Of course,“ he mutters, extracting and flipping the stupid thing over and over. „Of **course** this isn't about me. I'm just **fiiine**.'“

„Are you alright?“

Bastien startles. „Oh, yea.“ Rubs his neck. „I just, uh, kinda talk to myself sometimes.“

„I do that, too,“ says a new girl with a fancy braid, sitting down across from him. „I'm Anaïs.“

„I'm Bastien.“

She lights up. „Are you French?“

„German.“

„But it's a French name?“

Bastien shrugs. „I think my mum just wanted something 'different'.“

„It's a very pretty name.“

He shrugs again.

She flicks her braid back over her shoulder. „Do you mind if I sit here?“

„It's fine.“

Bastien gathers the wreckage of his lunch.

„What do you do for fun?“

Bastien sighs. „Listen, I don't really do friendships.“

„What? Why not?“

„I don't have a mobile or email and I have to go straight home after classes and I can't have friends over or visit anyone, either.“

„But why?“

„My father's **really** strict.“

„Oh. That's too bad.“ Anaïs hangs her head. „I only ... I just moved here—“ She grabs and plays with the end of her braid. „—with my new family.“

Bastien wrinkles his forehead. „You're adopted?“

„Yes.“ Anaïs twists her hair. „Grandfather thought I'd be happier with a smaller family.“

„I don't suppose your parents want another kid?“

Anaïs blinks. „I can ask?“

„I'm kidding.“ Sighs. „Mostly.“

„You're sure we can't be friends? I-I-I—“ Curls around herself. „You're the first person to talk to me.“

Bastien sniffs. „These guys're a bunch of jerks.“ He brightens a little. „I can introduce you to Sofie tomorrow!“

„Sofie?“

„We've been in the same class for ages, but she's out sick today.“

„I'd love to—“

The bell screams the end of the period.

Bastien and Anaïs sigh, drag themselves to their feet, then to their separate classrooms.

The afternoon plods by.

 **Finally** , it ends.

Bastien puts Manny's letter in his trouser pocket, slings his rucksack onto his back, shtumps to the hallway, dreading—

Anaïs waits, shifting her feet and twisting her hands.

He stuffs a sigh, raises an eyebrow instead.

„Maybe, we—uh—maybe we could walk together to the bus stop?“

„I'm going the other way with my brother, but we can walk to the gate.“

Anaïs matches his steps, quiet, as they leave the building and cross the forecourt.

Manny leans against the school fence, watching the street.

„Hey.“

Manny straightens, turns, smiles. „Hi, Bastien.“

„Anaïs, this's my brother, Hermann.“

She bows. „Pleased to meet you, Mr Gottlieb.“

Manny bows back, says, „The same, Miss Anaïs, but call me 'Hermann', please.“

She glows at him.

„Anaïs just moved here.“

„I hope Berlin is kind to you, Miss.“

She glances at Bastien. „It's getting better.“

„Brilliant.“ Manny ducks his head. „If you'll excuse us, Miss. We're expected home very shortly.“

Anaïs' face falls. „O-of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Bastien?“

„Yup. Tomorrow.“

„'bye, then!“

„'bye.“

Bastien jams his hands in his trouser pockets, trumps for home.

Manny hobbles after him, finally catching up around the first corner. „I'm sorry,“ he says.

„Why?“

„Because she desperately wants to be your friend and Father—“

„Here.“ Bastien stuffs the envelope from lunch into Manny's chest.

Manny stumbles, catches himself with his cane.

Bastien cringes, mumbles, „Sorry.“

Manny waves it off, focuses on opening the note.

Bastien slumps against a handy tree trunk, crosses his arms, watches sunlight dancing on overhanging leaves.

A sniffle.

„What's it say?“

Manny wipes his eyes, hands over the folded paper.

♫ ♪ Happy birthday to youuuuuu! ♪ ♫

I couldn't think of any thing to send you which you wouldn't have to spin a hell of a yarn about to explain to your dad, so I give you this:

Leannan.

It's an all-purpose Gaelic word for darling, sweetheart, beloved, sweetie, et c, et c.

As a bonus, it's obscure enough for plausible deniability if I get caught saying it you. It can be our secret for the next 370 days.

Love,  
Edan

4 Jun. '06  
Manchester

Bastien's heart hiccups and he passes it back.

Manny sets to tearing it into tiny, tiny pieces.

Bastien bonks his head against the trunk, bites his lip to stay quiet.

Manny dumps the bits in a bin, turns—„What's wrong?“

„Nothing.“

„Bunny ....“ Manny steps closer.

„It's nothing.“

Manny waits.

Bastien sags, mumbles, „I'm lonely.“

Manny ....

„I want real friends, but.“ Shrugs.

„I'm sorry, Bastien—“ He shifts his grip on his cane. „—but I'm here for you, whatever that's worth.“

„Until you leave for England next year.“

„I'm sorry ....“

Bastien snuffs, pushes off, plods toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [pazzambra](https://www.flickr.com/photos/pazzambra/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/pazzambra/9624606232/).
> 
> I swear this was meant to be another fluffy chapter of Hermann and Edan exchanging cute little notes and instead I get kid!Bastien staring a life of possible isolation in the face and little Anaïs in her separate-but-similar boat.


	58. Languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan discuss summer plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 June 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Koinobori — MM, 29/4/2017, Tanegashima -

The warm, strong breeze tickles.

Hermann's wings twitch.

He frowns, leans hard against the park bench he's using as a perch, squashing them to relative stillness. Even so, he hisses at the pinch.

「You well?」 calls Bastien from where he's spread-eagled on the grass, eyes closed against the bright sunlight.

「My back hurts a little.」

Bastien pushes up onto his elbows. 「Go home?」

「I want to finish this.」

Bastien thumbs up, flops down.

Hermann rolls his shoulders, touches pen to the daisy-covered paper resting on his Russian workbook.

Six flatmates?

That sounds positively mental.

At least you'll have Vigsai and Rhys handy. (Did I understand correctly you'll be sharing a bedroom with Rhys? If so, that should keep you on your toes.)

Have you begun your job yet? I hope the planetarium is everything you suspect it will be. You certainly seem perfectly suited to guiding little ones through the universe.

As for me, I'm plodding through this last month of lectures. Programming is still a meditative exercise and, unfortunately, astrophysics continues to be uninspiring. What is it about this city that's sapping my desire for the stars? It's clearly /this city, as Manchester didn't dampen my feelings and Glasgow has no effect on yours.

Maybe it's because Berlin is my father's city, Glasgow is yours, and Manchester was ours.

In 357 days, perhaps it will be ours again.

Bastien sneezes.

「Bless you.」

「What?」 He sneezes again.

「Bless you.」

「I don't understand.」

„Bless you.“

„Oh.“ Bastien snuffs. 「Thank you.」

「You're welcome.」

(I heave a sigh.)

My summer is shaping up much like my post-holiday break, with intensive language study and reading ahead for my fall courses. The most notable change is Father has granted Bastien permission to join me in my Japanese lessons during his summer break, where they don't conflict with the summer courses he insists Bastien take.

I have a feeling Bastien will run away to Japan as soon as he's able. He's positively obsessed with the place.

Rather like his brother and Great Britain, I suppose.

I have to close before Father comes looking for us.

My regards to your family and friends.

357!

All my love,  
Hermann

He carefully tri-folds the paper, slides it into a matching envelope, already addressed and stamped.

「Bunny.」

「Brother.」

「Time to go.」

Bastien groans, sits up, stretches his arms over his head.

Hermann pushes to his feet, straightens his jumper, tucks his textbook under his arm.

Bastien hauls himself to his feet, brushes grass off his backside.

「Ready?」 asks Hermann.

「Yes,」 sighs Bastien.

They leave the park and trudge toward home, with the barest pause at the post box to drop off the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Chris Lewis](https://www.flickr.com/photos/chrissam42/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/chrissam42/479166344/).


	59. Private Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien sulks through Germany's victory at the World Cup, despite Hermann's best efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 June 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Berlin, August 2010 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann sits back, pushes his glasses up onto his forehead, rubs his eyes.

His laptop emits a dejected _beep_.

Hermann groans, lets his glasses drop back into place.

\- Compile failed. Try again? Y/N? -

The cursor blinks, taunting him.

„I should've stuck with physics,“ he mutters.

The cursor blinks, utterly unmoved.

Hermann sighs, exits the compiler and programming environment, powers down the machine, sets his glasses on the keyboard. With a deep breath, he pushes to his feet, hobbles to the sitting room.

Bastien sulks on the couch, staring at the television with the volume on low.

Hermann eases down beside him. „What're we watching?“

„Football,“ he sighs. „Germany versus Ecuador.“

Hermann shifts to better cushion his wings.

Muffled cheering from the screen as the German team scores.

Bastien grumbles, slouches further.

„You can't be upset about the score.“

Bastien rolls his eyes.

„So why aren't you more excited?“

„I could be there,“ he grumps.

„Be where?“

„At the match. Anaïs' family had tickets and she asked me to come along.“

„Father wouldn't let you.“

„Of course not! It's not like it's the **World Cup** , the home team, and's been sold out for my entire **life**.“

„Your view is probably better from here than it would be at the stadium.“

Bastien scoffs. „They have a private box. I could be in **private box** at the bloody **World Cup**.“

Hermann blinks, swallows. „How on Earth did they manage that?“

Bastien shrugs. „She didn't really know, but she said it seemed like no big thing to them. Like, it was just any old match.“

„They must be ... rather well-off.“

„Her dad owns part of some big company, I guess.“

„Still, taking World Cup tickets lightly ....“

„I knooooooow! I could be there with them!“ wails Bastien. „But, **nooooo** , I'm stuck here!“

„Ah, but do they have cookie dough at the stadium?“

Bastien fixes him with a dubious look.

„Mrs Krüger left some in the freezer, I believe.“

„Really?“

Hermann nods. „I'll bring it out to defrost a bit. We should be able to stuff ourselves stupid by the half.“

„Cool, I guess,“ huffs Bastien.

Hermann pushes to his feet, ruffles—

„Not cool!“

—Bastien's hair, and shuffles to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Stewart](https://www.flickr.com/photos/stewied/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/stewied/177762047/).
> 
> The saga of Bastien and Anaïs continues and the boys are still more or less under house arrest. Nothing too new here, so I hope I'm not boring folks. I swear this is going somewhere, someday.


	60. Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan babbles about his summer to Hermann, while Bastien and Anaïs sneak an afternoon together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 July 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1223.jpg [Glasgow Science Center, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann tilts his head back to better feel the sunlight on his face.

Beside him, Bastien fidgets.

„We're early, remember?“

Bastien huffs.

Hermann closes his eyes.

Bastien shifts.

„She'll be here. Relax.“

„I just want everything to go well,“ he mumbles. „I **never** get to hang out so I want it to be **perfect**.“

„You've seen her every day this week.“

„In **class**.“

„You still see her.“

„But—“ Bastien sighs. „Sorry, Manny.“

„You pass notes, right?“

„I'm already sick of notes.“

„Me, too.“

„I don't know how you do it.“

„With difficulty.“ Hermann offers his best reassuring smile. „I'm sure we'll get to do this more often from now on.“

Bastien scoffs.

Hermann bumps his shoulder. „Dee will vouch for the fact we were very well-behaved and studied hard the entire afternoon.“

Bastien snorts.

Hermann grins.

Bastien sighs, then, „How does Dee get away with lying to Father when we can't?“

„Because Father **wants** to believe everything Dee says but he expects us to be wrong or disobedient.“

Bastien smirks. „Would be a shame to let him down, wouldn't it?“

„Bunny ....“

Bastien smirks harder.

Hermann frowns.

A long, black car grumbles to a stop at the kerb.

„Whoa ...,“ breathes Bastien.

A driver in sparkling—and there's no other word for it—livery unfolds from the car and opens the rear door.

A familiar little brunette slides out, smiling brightly and waving.

„Anaïs! Hi!“ Bastien hops to his feet, waves back.

„I guess—“ Hermann swallows. „I guess World Cup tickets aren't the only thing her parents have access to.“

Anaïs skips over—„Bastien!“—wraps herself around him.

Hermann's heart can't decide if it should should drop or leap, so it just sort of flutters in place.

The driver closes the door, climbs back inside, and the car glides away.

Bastien and Anaïs bounce on their toes, happily together.

His heart settles on dropping, so Hermann levers himself to his feet, settles his rucksack over his shoulder.

Anaïs spots him, stops her hopping. „I'm sorry, Mr Gottlieb. I didn't—“

„No need to apologize, Miss Anaïs. And it's 'Hermann', please“

She bows. „Thank you, Hermann.“

„Shall we go inside?“

Anaïs looks around, frowns.

Bastien follows her gaze. „What's up?“

„I thought we were meeting both your brothers?“

„An emergency came up at our brother's flat and he had to stay behind to deal with it. He sends his regrets.“

„Oh. That's too bad.“

„Shall we go inside?“ prompts Bastien.

„We shall!“ chirps Anaïs.

They set off, Hermann taking rearguard, until the reach the second floor reading room where they commandeer a semi-circle of comfy chairs.

„What should we do?“ asks Bastien.

„I've already finished the homework.“ Anaïs twists her braid between her fingers. „I got bored home alone last night.“

„Same here,“ snickers Bastien.

Anaïs' shoulders lose tension and she smiles. „What should we do instead?“

Bastien looks to Hermann. „Umm, Manny?“

„Hmm?“ Hermann straightens from digging in his rucksack, envelope and glasses in hand. „Bastien, didn't you say you wanted to practice your French?“

„Uh, yea?“

„Then why don't you and Miss Anaïs talk about movies or books: you in French and she in German?“

Bastien and Anaïs exchange a look, then beam at Hermann.

„Just do it quietly or the librarians will come around and shush you.“

Bastien salutes, Anaïs bows, and they shoot off into the stacks.

Hermann shakes his head, tears open Edan's latest letter, settles his glasses on his nose and himself more comfortably in his chair.

Dear Hermann,

The planetarium job is brilliant! The kids! The enthusiasm! The happiness and energy!

Well, it's brilliant except for when that energy is channeled into trying to push each other over the railings. But that only happened once and I put a stop to it before we had any flyers, so it's all good.

(There's also that time they had me subbing at the explore-through-doing area and I wound up with three shades of modeling clay in my hair, but we do not speak of that incident.)

But! I've never seen so many kids excited about space. I thought I was the only obsessive at these ages, but, nope! The little devils are everywhere it seems. Hopefully my spiel will keep them on the road to the stars.

Who knows, I might even be teaching them astrophysics someday. Wouldn't that be awesome?

And the chances of me qualifying for the kind of school you'll qualify for have gone up! It was my semester to rock my exams and I've clawed back a few of the points I lost on the last round. I just have to keep the momentum going now.

Spending graduate school with you is a hell of an inducement, let me tell you.

Can you imagine sharing every weekend? Most meals? A flat? A bed?

I nearly have a meltdown just thinking about it.

Hermann shifts, scratches the hem of his binder.

...

Excuse me, I'll be right back.

Hermann blushes to the tips of his ears.

Ahem.

Where was I?

Together! Right!

I am so counting the days until you can get back to this island of mine.

You remember right that I'll be rooming with Rhys again. We figured it'd be better for us to share so Iggy can have her 'alone' time.

Rhys isn't talking to me much 'coz he's ridiculously busy at that newspaper of his. Neither is Iggy, since she's gone down to London-town to assist on some project of Dr Marsh's.

SHE'S GOING TO PUBLISH BEFORE US, HERMANN!

I can't decide if I should be proud or horrified.

(I'm proud.)

Wait. Technically Rhys has published already too, even if it's only a a bit of local colour.

That means it's a race between you and I and I WILL NOT LOSE.

It's on, Hermann.

You know, if Bunny wants out, you can always send him here. He can hide behind my dad and no one'll be the wiser. And my dad can totally kick the shit out of your dad, I'm sure, if it comes down to violence. He brings his brothers over and I think anyone with half a brain (who didn't know they're actually all softies) would apologize and run. That's fifty-odd stone of Scotsmen looming over the target of your choice.

Hermann chuckles.

Lookit this skinny nerd threatening folks with his larger relations. I almost feel bad. Almost.

What's this song I hear?

Oh. It's Fen-fen shrieking at me to come to breakfast so I'm not late for my next journey through the universe, moulding little minds.

Wish me safe a safe trip!

And a safer commute—Trinity's driving.

Only 348 more!

Love,  
Edan

26 Jun. '06  
Glasgow

Hermann sighs, rearranges himself in his chair, flips back to the first page.

In the distance, giggles.

He sighs, rubs his chest above his heart, turns his eyes back to Edan's first words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Daniel Holton](https://www.flickr.com/photos/danholton/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/danholton/2078360614/).
> 
> These chapters highlighting how _lonely_ our German contingent are ... they're starting to hurt my little black heart. It's as though I can't let all of them be happy at once or for long.


	61. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's scholarly reputation grows; Edan makes a fool of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 August 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- _IMG_1187.jpg [Mosaic, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann slouches in at Dee and Sabine's café table, drops his rucksack on the floor with a _thud_ , greets, „Hey.“

„A good afternoon to you, too, Manny.“

Hermann sniffs, flips over his cup.

Dee pours coffee. „Another exciting day in the life of Berlin's 'most promising programmer'?“

Sabine says, „Finals have **nothing** on you, I bet?“

„The rest of my cohort is in fits, but I'm without difficulty.“ Hermann scowls at Dee. „Who called me that?“

„Mrs Doctor Umarov, when she brought in little Sveta for a fever.“ He cradles his cup. „Apparently **your** brilliance inspires added confidence in **my** skills.“

Hermann glowers into his mug.

„That's a good thing, you know. The appointment went a treat, but my fellows said she's usually a second-guessing **monster** where Sveta's concerned.“

„You're welcome,“ grumbles Hermann.

Sabine studies him.

„What.“

„No joy?“

Hermann picks at his jumper. „I'd rather be looking at stars than a screen, 'most promising' or not.“

Sabine turns her attention to her coffee.

„On the topic of stars, you have a dispatch.“ Dee offers an envelope.

Hermann frowns at it.

„I'm sure there's a good reason he's not using the butterfly paper.“

Hermann rolls his eyes as he snatches it away, tears it open.

Dear Hermann,

I had no idea how much I talk with my hands until this week and learning it was one Hell of an expensive lesson.

You see, I'm on crutches for the next week or so.

Hermann winces.

„Everything alright?“

„He hurt himself.“

„Nothing permanent, I hope.“

„Me, too.“

Sigh.

What happened, you ask?

Trinity and I ... well, we got a little silly one evening and were messing about at the local playground. She dared me to fly off the swings. I took her up on it but landed stupid and twisted my ankle after quite the impressive distance.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

„Not permanent, huh?“

„Not even serious.“

„Excellent.“

Hermann grunts.

For my prize, I won a trip to A&E, a pair of crutches, and a mountain of mockery.

Totally worth it to show Trinity up. It's always worth it to show Trinity up. She gets the better of me so often, it's a pleasant change of pace.

I ever tell you the story of how we met? If I have or if you don't care, skip the next couple of paragraphs.

Fen-fen was walking me to kindergarten one day and everything's totally normal and boring and I'm dragging my feet because I just know Davey Morrison's going to show up the instant Fen-fen disappears around a corner and take my pocket money or my art project, depending on his mood.

I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but little Davey was an absolute prick.

So, Fen-fen dumps me at the usual corner and I make it two steps before Davey materializes and grabs me by the jacket.

At that same instant, something slams into my back and I give Davey a Glasgow kiss and there's an almighty scrum right there on the pavement. The monitors get us untangled and there's me and Davey and this blond we'd never seen before. Davey's got a black eye and split lip, I'm bleeding from the nose and two teeth are loose, and the blond's pretty much unscathed, except for my blood on their shirt.

And that's how I met Trinity Moss: she tackled me face-first into the pavement—costing me two (baby) teeth—trying to save me from my childhood bully.

This's why I always try to keep her in front of me. ☺

She sends her greetings, by the way.

Now, this should be reaching you during your exams so I'm sending you all the blessings I can rain down. Not that you need them to succeed. Finals don't stand a chance against your mental might.

Have you settled on a programme yet? You have to decide by this autumn, yea?

I'm looking over your last letter and you're worried I'll love you less if you don't do astrophysics. Well, stop that.

You could major in widget assembly or—God forbid, literature—and I'd love you with all my heart.

It's not the major, it's the man, leannan.

Hermann wipes away the start of tears.

A different programme just means I'll have to put on my tour guide lanyard and bring the stars to you while you assemble widgets.

Hermann snorts a laugh.

Rhys and Iggy are still ————— BEAKER IS A BIG DORK

Hermann blinks at the shift of handwriting.

Ahem.

That was Fen-fen. She and Trinity snuck in (had my headphones up too loud to hear them coming) and Trinity held me down while she said her piece.

So much for getting the better of Trinity. (Or Fen-fen)

If you'll excuse me, I need to hobble after her in search of vengeance.

We're down to 327. I can almost see you from here.

Truly yours,  
Edan

17 Jul. '06  
Glasgow

Hermann sighs fondly, re-folds the papers, bends—

„Getting your reply?“

—straightens, unsealed envelope and pen in hand. „May I have a moment to add to it?“

„Of course! It gives us more time to chat.“ Sabine makes eyes at Dee.

He pecks her cheek.

„Thanks,“ grunts Hermann.

Addendum

9 Aug 2006  
Berlin, Germany

I have just completed my programming final and suspect I have done quite well on it. At this point, I suspect I could write the sort of code required in my sleep, never mind under time pressure.

Dee also informs me Dr Umarov (the programming instructor; I've mentioned his name before, yes?) has been telling his family about my skills.

At the moment, I'm inclined to declare Computer Science my programme at the start of the next term, since I'm still unable to bring myself to the continue astrophysics. Coding is soothing, absorbing, and I'm apparently 'Berlin's most promising'. 

Hermann chews his lip.

You really won't think less of me if I do? Truly?

We could still work together, even if I'm only a programmer. You'll need someone to analyze your observational data and model the results, right? You can be the star (hah!) astronomer and I your humble enabler.

Of course, this plan would require you remaining alive with your brain undamaged long enough to graduate.

Were I closer to hand, I would give both you and Trinity (but mostly you) a solid thrashing for risking your neck over something as silly as a playground dare.

Hermann frowns.

~~Were I closer to hand, I would give both you and Trinity (but mostly you) a solid thrashing for risking your neck over something silly as a playground dare.~~

Please be more careful, lest I be tempted to fly over there and swaddle you in bubble wrap, my beloved doughnut.

304 days until I can protect you in person.

With love and wishes for a speedy recovery,  
Hermann

He checks for spelling and grammar errors, grunts approval, stuffs the pages into their envelope, licks and seals it.

Sabine accepts it, tucks it in her purse. „Had to add a bit about being more careful, did you?“

„Of course.“ Hermann smiles. „I want him back in one piece.“

„Or at least with the important pieces still functioning.“

„ **Sabine!** “ hisses Dee.

Hermann just blushes to his hairline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [dun_deagh](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dun_deagh/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dun_deagh/6444553273/).
> 
> I love it when Edan starts telling stories from his past (and present). For such a nerd and straight arrow, he's got some seriously colorful ones.


	62. Reclassified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann confides his fears about his choice of university program to Edan, after chastising him for his latest misadventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 August 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- don't be so shy! (29/07/21, Hong Kong) -

Hermann shuffles papers, frowns again at Bastien's red ink-free Japanese worksheet and his own bloody-looking one.

Bastien, beside him at the library worktable, flies through the next lesson.

Hermann glowers at him with his peripheral vision.

Bastien scribbles on, blissfully oblivious.

Hermann sighs, fishes in his rucksack for his stationery, this batch decorated with cartoon bees and flowers, spreads it on the table, begins his reply to Edan's latest missive.

28 Aug 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

I cannot believe you. You fell down the stairs?! A broken ankle?! Six more weeks on crutches?! You'll still be hurt when the term starts!

I don't care what Trinity did, you simply must stop hurting yourself. One cripple in this relationship is enough. As someone who has had years of both full and limited mobility, you want to avoid disability at all costs.

Hermann chews his lower lip.

Dietrich has been discussing my 'case'—hypothetically, of course—with an orthopedic-surgeon-in-training he met recently. Apparently she believes it possible to repair my lame leg well enough for me to walk without assistance. It will, however, involve treatment by a

Grimaces.

foreign expert. I'm loathe to consent, even if surgery might allow me to function more normally. I know of this expert by reputation and I do not trust him, especially not when I would be anesthetized while he has sharp objects readily available.

Maybe I'm paranoid, but I don't trust anyone except Dietrich with my health.

Frowns deeply.

I've had my fill of quacks.

„Done!“ chirps Bastien and he flies off into the stacks, no doubt headed directly for the Japanese readers.

Hermann sighs.

I'm also rapidly running out of patience for Japanese. French, Russian, and even the smattering of Yiddish with which Dr Schulte peppers his lessons are absolute child's play. Japanese continues to toy with me like a cat with a mouse. Bastien is running rings around my comprehension. He soaks up the language like a sponge. Even Dr Weiß is impressed with him.

I'm very unused to being second-best in my studies and I don't like the feeling one bit.

So it is with much relief that my marks for the semester came back at the very tippy-top in each course. In addition, I've been promised an assistantship by Dr Umarov if I declare for Computer Science at the start of the term.

Despite your continued assurances, I still fear what the change will do to our relationship. Code is so far from the stars it might as well be underground.

It shouldn't be this easy to let go of my lifelong dream.

It really shouldn't.

Yet, I'm on the verge of doing so and I'm not sure what, if anything, this says about me, especially in light of your unwavering drive to achieve the same dream.

I envy you. In so many ways, I envy you.

Hermann turns his gaze to the ceiling for a long mental ten-count.

Agus mar sin tha e a 'dol, yea?

I assume you've read the IAU resolution on the definition of 'planet' and what it means for primary school solar system models.

The 'dwarf planet' category and Pluto's reclassification are long overdue. I'm pleased logic has finally triumphed over tradition. Maybe now sky-watchers can stop arguing over labels and focus on actually doing research.

I'm so tired of this break trapped at my father's house, without any real work to do. The start of the semester (October!!!) can't come quickly enough.

Karla swept through the city on her way from visiting friends in Zürich back to Montreal. She absolutely refused to set foot in the house, so Dietrich had to sneak Bastien and I out to see her at a café. She was happier than I've seen her in years. An ocean between her and Father seems to have worked wonders on her disposition. Perhaps it's more that she has a fully involving life to distract her from all the little indignities of being a member of this family.

I wish I had you to distract me, even if it was only to bring you ice cream and curry while you recuperate.

The days are ticking away (we're down to 285), however, they can't go quickly enough for me.

Love,  
Hermann

He folds the papers into their envelope, already stamped and addressed to Glasgow, tucks it into a folder for posting on the way to the bus stop.

Fighting the temptation to simply copy from Bastien's unguarded assignment, he returns his attention to his Japanese workbook and glowers at the blank spaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [amaz](https://www.flickr.com/photos/amazprincipal/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/amazprincipal/2174602243/).
> 
> I feel kinda bad about following up Edan's perky letter with this mopey mess. Hermann just had to get a few things off his chest, I guess. Hope it doesn't bring anybody down too badly.


	63. Interlude: Works of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastien and his friend Anaïs compare art projects and draw a conclusion about their histories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 September 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Èze, June 2011 — Raleigh B. -

Bastien tilts his head left.

Anaïs' brush goes _shiff_ against her painting.

He tilts right.

She swishes the brush in the cleaning solution.

He glowers, growls.

„What's wrong?“ she asks.

«My painting **sucks**.» Frustrated gesture. «This looks **nothing** like our back garden.»

She peers over his shoulder. „Is that a shed?“

«It's supposed to be a **tree**!» Drags a hand over his face, wails, «I **suck** at art!»

„But your drawings are so pretty!“

Bastien scoffs.

„They really are!“ Smiles. „That bird's really cute, too.“

«What bird?»

„That one.“ Anaïs points.

«That's a bird **house**!» Sulks, mutters, «I should just give up painting before I make an idiot of myself.»

„I'm sure you'll get better with more practice.“

Bastien sighs spectacularly.

„Would you look at mine and tell me what you think?“

«Sure.» He shuffles over, looks—double-takes, stares open-mouthed.

„What's wrong? Is it awful?“

«It's beautiful!»

„Really?“

«It's a work of **Art**! It belongs in a **museum**!»

„Don't tease me, Bunny,“ she scolds, poking his side.

«I'm not!» Waves his arms. «It's really, really cool!»

She ducks her head, says quietly, „Thank you.“

«This place look familiar, though.» Squints harder. «Is it somewhere famous?»

„I don't think so? It's Grandfather's house at the sea.“

«I **swear** I've seen it before.»

„There are a **lot** of houses like it, I guess.“

«Yea, but ... that corner—» Points to the spot where the stone wall meets the bluff. «—the wind kinda swirls around and makes a curvy little dune, right?»

Anaïs narrows her eyes. „How do you know that?“

«I just—» Shrugs. «—do?»

They stare at her painting for a while.

„Maybe ....“ Anaïs takes a deep breath. „Maybe we have the same grandfather?“

«I doubt it. My grandfather who's alive is this big guy who laughs a lot and can't speak French.»

Anaïs slumps a bit. „That doesn't sound at all like mine.“ Fiddles with the end of her braid. „Grandfather rarely laughs.“

Bastien edges closer, whispers, «Are you scared of him?»

„A little.“ Shifts her feet. „He's very important and it's **very** **important** we make him happy.“

«Sounds like my father,» snickers Bastien.

Anaïs smiles, shyly. „He sort of does, doesn't he?“

«Oh my God! What if my father and your grandfather are **the** **same** **person**!»

„I've never seen your father ....“

«And I haven't seen your grandfather ....»

They exchange a look.

«It can't be.»

„But what if it is?“

«We'd be family,» grins Bastien.

Anaïs beams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Bonnie Ann Cain-Wood](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bonnieann/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bonnieann/5833927253/).
> 
> Originally [posted as a separate fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7852885) and presented here with small revisions and a different picture.
> 
> I'm so glad I was able to find a friend for little Bastien, even as limited as his contact with Anaïs is.


	64. Earmuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann decides to do something kind for Edan, despite the mental anguish brought on by his latest letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29 September 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- mine's built in! (02/11/16, Kodiak) -

Hermann rests, head pillowed on crossed arms atop his closed laptop at Sabine's favourite café.

Something strokes his hair.

He grunts.

A chair scrapes back, scootches forward.

„„Long week?““ asks Dee.

Hermann offers an obscene salute without looking up.

Dee swats his hand down. „„There're families about! Mind your manners.““

Hermann scoffs.

Dee sighs. „„Pick your head up and talk to me, please.““

Hermann whines, lifts his head, glowers at Dee, and braces his chin with his hand.

Dee studies him with concern. „Are you feeling alright?“

„I'm tired and lonely and won't have time for any electives this term if I want to graduate on schedule.“

„I have something which might help with one of those.“ Dee offers an envelope.

Hermann plucks it with a sigh, eases it open, and reads.

Dear Hermann,

I'm sorry, my dear, but I must end our relationship,

„„Manny? You've gone pale.““

end our relationship, for I'm marrying Bakshish, who washed both our rooms and carried all our boxes up the stairs.

I haven't actually told him as much, but I wiiill.

Hermann exhales.

„Are you alright?“

„He just made an awful joke.“

„Must've been absolutely horrible.“ Dee smiles. „Want some coffee?“

„Tea, please.“

„Be right back.“

There's also the matter of Pluto. I'm afraid that may have to be the very last straw.

I can't believe you're one of those people! Years of tradition overthrown for what? To keep the number of the elite down? Why 'demote' when you can elevate? Why can't we have more planets? It's all arbitrary anyway, so why can't we leave well enough alone and say 'these nine orbiting bodies are the planets and these other things are other things'? It's like the Seven Wonders of the World, yea? Or the literary canon? There's no real good reason for it, it just is.

And it's beautiful and we should keep it and add to it.

Never subtract.

Come to think of it, that should be my motto:

'NEVER SUBTRACT'

Quite the battle cry, if I do say so myself.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

So there. I'm right and you and the IAU are completely, utterly wrong.

I still love you.

As if something as silly as a fundamental part of my childhood hadn't been torn away and stomped upon by those who think like you. *sniffle*

I still miss you and wish you were here. It's lonely without you, even with a house full of people.

The new house is as nice as it looked in Rhys's slideshow, especially after B♥kshish finished with it—though the crutches make the stairs a teeny bit of an inconvenience.

The other folks (Josh, Jade, Aimee, Robyn, Ryan, and Vanessa) seemed nice enough at the first house meeting. But we have a chores rota. Chores, Hermann. I have to do chores. Like I was at home.

You'd think that'd be the worst part, but you'd be wrong.

Very

VERY

WRONG.

See, I'm sharing a room with Rhys (like we figured), BUT it's between Iggy's and Josh and Jade's.

Josh and Jade have so much sex I'm beginning to doubt they ever to go to class. Whatever. Not my problem.

Iggy's a screamer.

PROBLEM.

I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THIS!!!

I NEED TO UNKNOW THIS.

I NEED TO UNKNOW THIS YESTERDAY.

Hermann sits back, shakes the most-unwelcome visual out of his head.

Dee pushes a steaming mug over.

„Don't suppose you have an additive which can purge my short-term memory?“

„Not with me. What did he say?“

„He shared information about someone else's sex life.“

„Oo. Ouch.“

Hermann grunts around a sip of tea.

I also need to do my reading and writing at the library until they throw me out at 2AM by which time everyone's exhausted and asleep and I can pass out in my bed instead of on the sofa.

When I'm tired enough, I can sleep through anything.

I hope.

Anyway ... I'm saving the money I'm not spending on alcohol to buy earmuffs. The kind the guys on the tarmac at airports use. Then, maybe, I can study in my own room.

„Dee?“

„Could we go shopping after this?“

„Sure. I have some time before my night shift.“

Hermann nods absently, turns over the sheet of paper.

„What will we be looking for?“

„Headphones. The noise-canceling kind.“

„Early Christmas present?“

„Mmhm.“

„All's forgiven then?“

„Not really. I'm still plotting my revenge.“

Dee snorts a laugh.

Apparently the walls are thin, but the floors're almost soundproof since the upstairs folks have no complaints about the racket.

Lucky Aimee, Robyn, Ryan, and Vanessa.

Oh my god Vanessa's hair! It's huge! Like 'dwarf planet' huge first thing in the morning. The fact that she can style it at all (let alone make it look good) frightens me a whole lot more than the fact Josh could break me in half with a sneeze.

Just as frightening? She's a chemistry major and she and Iggy get on like a housefire and babble in chemicals and reactions. Compared to the two of them, the rest of us are absolute nobodies, I swear.

But! I was chatting with Aimee and it turns out she's a linguistics person and worked on Japanese last term and I mentioned that you (well, "my boyfriend") were taking it too and having a lot of trouble. She's like, "Really? I'd think language would be easy—he's so good at math and programming; they're similar principles. They're all language." So maybe if you think about it like C or Python or Perl it'll be easier.

Hermann ....

„Hmmm?”

„Pardon?”

„Did you say something—dear Lord, what now? You look like you've taken a blow to the head.“

„I ... have.“

Dee leans across the table. „Your pupils look even ... any weakness or tingling?“

Hermann shakes himself. „I'm not having a stroke, only a realization.“

Dee settles back down. „You keep reacting this strongly to these letters and I'm putting you on anxiety meds.“

„Will they clear my short-term memory?“

„No.“

„Then don't bother.“ Hermann turns over the page.

„Manny ...,“ sighs Dee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Shawn Rossi](https://www.flickr.com/photos/shawnzlea/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/shawnzlea/2306206890/in/photolist-4vMUXL-btGfqV-8rPuab-pKgWv7-bntV8x-cfYSxU-67nMVU-hp4TTR-q5QwDM-p1e7xo-7my4GB-fuUZsY-anioGT-gUnfqy-47TT3V-r34mdM-fT9q5k-rj38yi-qHQPRL-61yiEH-umiYx5-9zDxKS-fY3VY4-31fZHT-oWBhiN-6bQxwM-eisqsK-5E9swK-95mihZ-57fPNG-bC3bDh-5qaks1-ncLZLU-5mZjDF-kmm83a-9ZYn7E-7vEH1X-e1wsPK-ko5R4J-kzAW6G-dhBhW9-7d4Ur4-nvjXfX-AQf29-9Jwfyq-8ubqbf-ftooAt-4xBZBa-75SsXn-pYr6f3).
> 
> Ah ... the joys of sharing a living space with college students! I don't miss it a bit. I was, and still am, the person who can sleep through _anything_.


	65. Dinosaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann makes his major official and provokes Newt in an effort to feel better about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 October 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- legs for miles (28/05/14, Johannesburg) -

Hermann closes the door on the sunset—

Bunny's trainers lie in a heap against the wall.

—shakes his head, takes off his loafers, and puts them and Bunny's shoes in the closet. Off he hobbles through the house to his room, wings complaining about the pressure the rucksack full of the term's book put on them. He dumps the bag on the mattress, yanks at his layers as his wings ache. When the binder **finally** falls away, he sighs deeply and streeeeeeeeetches ....

Almost comfortable.

He exhales, fumbles into his pajama bottoms—forgoes the shirt—straddles his desk chair, and wakes his PC.

First stop, email.

Confirmation message from the registrar.

Hermann's heart flip-flops and his wings twitch.

Congratulations from Dee and Karla.

He skims the rest of the unopened messages, frowns, clicks 'Compose Message', sets his mind to 'encipher' and his fingers on the keyboard.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** Early frost

Please cease bothering me about finding my 'calling'. I have just returned from filing the paperwork to declare myself for the computer science programme. Whether I have 'found myself' has yet to be seen, but I will complete a degree in this subject at this university.

As my advisor and I figure it, I should accumulate enough credits by the end of the 2009 spring term to graduate. I do hope to shave at least one semester off by taking an overload of courses.

Hermann sends the note, then crosses his arms on the desktop, pillows his head on them, wings waving idly in the draught from the furnace.

A quiet _chirp_ —tree sparrow—from the speakers.

Hermann lifts his head, wings stilling, pokes open the response.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

About FUCKING TIME.

But COMPUTERS?

WTF?

What happened to stars? You're the biggest astronaut groupie I've ever heard of and here your about as far from that as you can get.

How can you go from a universe possibly full of life to shoving electrons around? What broke dude?

Hermann sighs, heart twitching against his ribs, does **not** think about a night under the stars in Manchester.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Stargazing may be good for the soul, but it is not likely to gain me suitable employment.

Besides, since my programming interest centers on artificial intelligences and self-teaching programmes, I will be much more likely to create a new 'lifeform' than any biologist.

The response is nearly immediate.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Did you just threaten to create fucking Skynet?

Hermann rolls his eyes and the ache evaporates from his chest.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

No, but if I **did** manage to create an intelligent weapons-control platform, I would certainly include sufficient safety protocols to prevent an apocalypse.

He barely has time to look away from the screen before the response arrives.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Life finds a way dude.

Hermann suppresses a groan, face-palms.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

A quote from a third-rate monster movie is a piss-poor warning against hubris. Surely you can do better.

A decisive _click_ of the mouse.

Hermann turns to the bed, drags his rucksack from the mattress, lets it _thump_ down onto the floor next to the desk.

_chirp_.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Jurassic Park is a cinematic masterpiece you philistine! How DARE you slander it!

Take it back before I fly over there and kick your ass!

„'Philistine'? **Philistine?!** “ Hermann grits his teeth. Then, deliberately flattens his hands on the desktop and takes five deep breaths through his nose.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

I stand behind my assessment of the film and scoff at your empty threat.

He drums his fingertips against the desk as he awaits the inevitable.

_chirp_.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Someday I'll be in the same zip code as you and you'll pay motherfucker. I'll tie you to a couch and MAKE you watch Jurassic Park until you like it.

Hermann scoffs.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

I will likely die before that happens.

He waits, contemplating a snack, hopeful Bastien left hime some of the dinner Mrs Becker prepared for them.

_chirp_.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Yeah right Hermann. You're already like, what, half dinosaur?

Hermann flinches, then shudders as his wings reflexively fold around his shoulders. He flicks them back into their proper place.

Yeah right Hermann. You're already like, what, half dinosaur? You'll break in five minutes TOPS.

With a grumble, he replies.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

I can only aspire to the resilience and survival capabilities of the dinosaurs, as they remain with us and even outnumber our species today.

He waits, smug.

_chirp_.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Nice try but BIRDS ARENT DINOSAURS.

They DESCEND FROM dinosaurs.

Maybe you SHOULD stick to computers.

Hermann's fingers fly across the keys.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Then it is a good thing am I neither a dinosaur nor a bird, but myself.

It's sent before Hermann's brain can stop his hands.

Hermann's stomach plummets.

_chirp_.

Hermann cringes.

**From:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**To:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

Whoa. Seriously cryptic there Hermann.

Your up past your bedtime aren't you?

Go to sleep so you can be a good little code monkey on Monday.

Some of the tension bleeds from his muscles, but his fingers shake as he types.

**From:** Hermann Gottlieb (hermann.gottlieb@tu-berlin.de)  
**To:** Newton Geiszler (ng2505@columbia.edu)  
**Subject:** RE: Early frost

What I lack in eloquence I will make up for in brevity:

Fuck you, Newton.

He powers off the PC, hauls himself to his feet, and limps to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Matt Francey](https://www.flickr.com/photos/howfardad/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/howfardad/15520168950/).
> 
> This's it. This's their friendship.


	66. Interlude: Pleasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine and Anaïs talk about a woman's place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 October 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Lightcap works the crowd (16/12/26, Washington DC) — Jackson J -

At the happy noise, Sabine looks up from her book.

Little Anaïs perches on her chair across the library worktable, focused intently on her notepad, pencil gliding across the page. She notices Sabine and cringes.

„Sorry, sweetie. Didn't mean to surprise you.“

„I-it's alright, Miss Sabine. I should be studying.“

„But you and Bastien finished your homework an hour ago?“

„I need to work hard to get good marks and keep my parents happy with me so they don't send me back to Grandfather.“

Sabine's shoulders tighten. „They threaten you with that?“

„No, they always say they love me, but ....“ Anaïs picks at a jumper cuff, takes a deep breath, says quietly, „It's what always happens when we disappoint our parents: we're sent back.“

Sabine sets her book aside without bothering to mark the page. „Did your Grandfather hurt you?“

„No!“ squeaks Anaïs. „It's—it's just very important we make him happy.“

Sabine stifles a frown. „Well, if your parents love you—and if they say they do, they do—you don't have to worry about your Grandfather.“

Anaïs doubts, but says nothing.

„What were you drawing?“

„A diagram.“

„May I see it?“

Anaïs ducks her head, but pushes the pad over.

An intricate pattern of lines and symbols, some of which are vaguely familiar.

Sabine points to one. „What does this one mean?“

Anaïs glows. „That's a capacitor. It stores up electricity so this light—“ Points. „—stays on even if you unplug the circuit.“

„That's awesome! Did you design this?“

Anaïs nods.

„Wow! You like electronics?“

She bobs her head more enthusiastically. „I like telling power where to go.“

Sabine laughs.

Anaïs pales. „I mean—I don't—“

Sabine waves off the apology. „That's an **excellent** attitude to have.“ Leans forward conspiratorially. „It's always worked for me.“

Anaïs replies with a watery smile and a trembling voice, „Girls should be quiet and gentle and good wives and mothers.“

„Someone had you memorize that speech, huh?“

„It's one of the first things I learned at the crèche.“

„That's a little old-fashioned. Nowadays a woman can choose a different career if she wants one.“ Smiles reassurance. „I'm a—“ Puffs up. „—chief laboratory technician. You want to be ...?“

„An electronics engineer, but—“

„Then an electronics engineer you shall be!“

„But all I know how to do are lady-things like history and languages and painting.“

„You're already designing circuits and you have **plenty** of time to learn everything else you'll need to know.“

„I guess ....“

„I didn't know how to culture cells and sequence DNA when I was ten and now I do it every day and better than anyone at my firm. Even better than the men.“

Anaïs brightens. „The most important Doctor at the crèche **was** a woman.“

„See? I'll bet you anything that doctor's parents expected her to be a wife and mother and not a scientist, too, but she did what she wanted and they were proud of her for it.“

Anaïs chews her lip.

„When I was your age, my parents told me I'd be married by twenty and have three or four daughters by thirty. I'm twenty-four now and they brag to all their friends about how smart I am and my fancy job.“ Snickers. „They **do** still ask about when they're getting grandbabies, though.“

„Do you want babies, Miss Sabine?“

„Someday, I do.“ Grins. „I'll have them when **I'm** ready for them.“ Pokes Anaïs' arm. „When I do, I hope they're smart and sweet as you.“

Anaïs ducks her head, murmurs, „Thank you, Miss Sabine.“

„Now ... should we find out what's taking those silly boys so long?“

„We shall!“ Anaïs closes her notepad, slips it into her rucksack, hops from her chair, settles the bag over her shoulders.

Sabine tucks her book under her arm, slides to her feet, offers her hand.

Anaïs takes it and they set of in search of Hermann and Bastien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Andrew Kruse](https://www.flickr.com/photos/krusea/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/krusea/366437500/).
> 
> I wanted to give a little more insight into these two, but I'm worried this chapter is clunky and heavy-handed. It's definitely not my best work. I guess they can't all be winners.


	67. Only You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early Christmas for Edan as Hermann's gift arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 October 2006  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- someone has great taste! (12/09/20, LA) -

Edan plods through the door into the foyer, kicks off his shoes, shifts his rucksack with a huge sigh.

A box watches him from atop the shoe cupboard.

He peers—squees, grabs the box, squishes it to his chest, hippity-hops. Another squeal and he sprints up the stairs to his room.

Rhys isn't in, so he dumps his bag, drops the package on the mattress, attacks the tape with his pocket knife.

Bubble wrap.

A note.

Edan tears into it.

19 Oct 2006  
Berlin, Germany

Dear Edan,

Hopefully the enclosed will improve your audio environment.

Edan digs through another layer of plastic to find a box advertising fancy-fancy headphones. His heart does a happy little dance as he eases them out.

Good heft, heavily padded.

"Perfect," he breathes, grabbing his laptop and powering it on, throwing himself to sit cross-legged on his bed. He's through to the music in an eyeblink, plugs in the new gear, settles the headpiece, and fires up _A Different Kind of Tension_.

Blissful racket.

He sighs happily, head nodding along with the beat, picks up Hermann's letter where he left off.

How do they sound?

"You know me too well," laughs Edan.

Well, I've done it. I'm officially a Computer Science major.

My father seems rather smug about it, probably because he hopes I'll write programs for his robots at a discount. It seems he's already suggested as much to Dr Umarov.

"What a fucking cunt."

I won't work for my father even in his wildest dreams. Hell will open up and swallow me first.

Dr Umarov, though, has already put me to work as his assistant. He has me writing a program to analyze, test, and score code-writing assignments. If I can make it work, it will save both of us ages correcting these things by hand. I've already had to score the first-day quiz from the graduate course, so I know what I'm talking about.

"Only you, _leannan_ , only you."

Motion from the doorway.

Vanessa, hair safely under wraps, waving.

Edan pushes the headphones down to rest on his shoulders—

Squeaking, creaking, and very specific vocalizations.

—rolls his eyes.

"How do you **stand** this?" she asks, gesturing toward Iggy's room.

Edan points to his neck, melts a bit. "These now. My boyfriend sent them today."

"Sweet. Mind if I come in?"

"Be my guest," he replies, gesturing to the beanbag, "if you can stand the soundtrack."

She snorts, settles down with the grace of a royal. "You're Edan, right? Astrophysics?"

"The very one. And you're Vanessa the most-amazing chemistry major."

"Have you been talking to my parents?"

"Uh, no?"

"It sounded like something they'd tell people about me."

"Ah. I, um, picked up on it eavesdropping on you chatting with Iggy." Cringes. "Sorry about that."

Vanessa waves off the apology. "Speaking of Iggy, you letting Rhys borrow the new gear when your boyfriend stays over?"

Edan ruffles his hair. "Um, we're kinda long-distance right now."

"You and me both."

"Oh?"

"It's his year in New Zealand." She smiles. "He switches between Canterbury here and Canterbury there."

"Does that simplify things or make 'em more confusing?"

"Neither." Vanessa shrugs. "Email means it's a rather moot point."

"Ah. Right. Of course." Edan rubs the back of his neck.

"Where's yours these days?"

"Berlin and I can't visit for another—" Mental maths. "—seven months and thirteen days."

"You have it figured to the day."

"If you give me a moment, I'll get you the seconds."

"It must be serious."

"Pretty sure he's the love of my life. **For** life." Sighs, "He's **amazing**."

"He's studying abroad this term?"

"Sorta? I mean, he's studying and abroad, but it's, uh, complicated?"

"'Complicated'."

"Well, he's seventeen and his dad won't let him leave home until he turns **eight** een and I'm not allowed to go **there** because the old bastard's a homophobic douche-nozzle?"

Vanessa grimaces. "Ouch."

"Yea, thought I was done dealing with that sort of shit. Twenty-first century and all that." Sighs. " **Definitely** didn't expect someone else's parent to be a problem."

"You and yours don't get along?"

"My **actual** parents are great. My **biological** mum's entire family's disowned me and handed me an unofficial 'no contact' order."

"For someone Rhys calls a 'harmless dork', you're banned from a lot of places."

Edan laughs. "All because I'm a harmless **gay** dork and they're afraid their kid'll catch it from me."

Vanessa shakes her head. "Some people ...."

"Yea ... really hurts having to avoid family like I do."

She hums an agreement.

A clatter, a _thump_ , and muffled grumpy noises as the squeaking next door stops.

Edan snickers.

"Was that what I think it was?"

"Probably."

"You're a **saint** for putting up with this."

"You get used to it," shrugs Edan.

"So ... if the boyfriend's overseas with a dad like that, how'd you two meet?"

"He was here for a term, then—" Deep breath. "—his dad found out about us and transferred him."

"That's rough."

"Yea, but we're making it work. Sorta." Fiddles with the headphone cord. "All—" Points his chin to the wall. "— **that** makes it hard."

"I'm sure it does," drawls Vanessa.

Edan's face flames and he yelps, "Not like that!"

Vanessa laughs, makes a calming gesture. "Settle down, Orange Juice. I'm just teasing."

Edan huffs.

A shriek—

Vanessa cringes; Edan sighs.

—and the squeaking stops.

"Blessed quiet returns."

"For abouuuuuuut thirty minutes."

"You're kidding."

"I wish."

"You'd better send that boyfriend of yours a hell of a 'thank you'."

"Believe me, I will," vows Edan, crossing his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Johnson Cameraface](https://www.flickr.com/photos/54459164@N00/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/54459164@N00/6935663923/).
> 
> Man, this one went through a _lot_ of drafts and I'm still not _totally_ happy with Vanessa's voice, though it's getting better, thanks largely to help from artificiallifecreator.
> 
> Edan's musical choice this time is the third album by the Buzzcocks, the lead-off track of which is "[Paradise](https://youtu.be/At6hV5Oyr4I)".


	68. Fairest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Hermann and Bastien, meeting Anaïs' family reminds them of what theirs is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 November 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Museum Zeughaus, Mannheim (18 May 2008)— Karla -

Hermann hovers behind the backdrop of Bastien and Anaïs' science fair project, switching his cane from hand to hand and hoping there's enough cover to hide him.

„ **There** you are!“ huffs Bastien, peering around the end of the table, then he grabs Hermann's arm and drags him around the front of the display. „What were you doing back there?“

„I didn't want to distract from you,“ murmurs Hermann.

Bastien scoffs, „You were **hiding**.“

Hermann shrugs.

„From the crowd or from Father?“

„Yes.“

Bastien rolls his eyes.

««Bunny!»»

«Over here!» Bastien waves his hand in the air.

Anaïs races up, glomps Bastien, rumpling them both.

He squirms for appearances' sake.

A handsome older couple, hand-in-hand, stroll up; Anaïs spins to them and beams.

They glow back at her.

Hermann's heart twitches.

The man releases his hold, crouches to primary schooler-level. „Hello there, Mr Gottlieb,“ he greets Bastien, offering his hand. „I'm Stefan, Anaïs' dad.“

Bastien wipes his palm on his trousers, grips the hand, gives a solid shake. „Hi, Doctor Engelhorn.“

„None of that, son. As much as Anaïs talks about you, you're nearly one of the family. 'Stefan', please.“

Bastien melts a touch, nods.

Doctor Engelhorn stands and Mrs Engelhorn turns her smile on Hermann. „You must be the Hermann of whom Anaïs has spoken so warmly.“

„I am and I'm flattered. It's a pleasure to meet you,“ he replies, bowing to them both.

„Did you two do this all on your own?“ asks Doctor Engelhorn, who's stepped back to admire the display of intricate moving bits and circuits.

„Yes!“

„Well, Hermann helped with some of the maths,“ amends Anaïs.

„Impressive. I don't believe I've ever seen the like. All of the basic physics principles in one machine.“ Doctor Engelhorn shakes his head.

Bastien and Anaïs exchange a sneaky glance and beam.

„Oh my goodness. Bastien, did you draw all of this?“

„Anaïs helped me with some of the designs, but, yes, I did.“

„You have a real gift for art, young man.“

Bastien preens.

„May we see how it works?“

„Of course!“ chorus Anaïs and Bastien.

The Engelhorns laugh.

„Please press that button, Mummy.“

Mrs Engelhorn does and the carefully balanced network of levers, circuits, ramps, pulleys, magnets, and LEDs _whir_ s and blinks to life.

It works flawlessly, the hopper at the finish dropping a single hard candy into Bastien's hand.

He offers it to Anaïs; she accepts with a shy smile.

The Engelhorns—and the small crowd of families and teachers drawn by the lights and _bleep_ s—applaud enthusiastically.

„Rube Goldberg would be proud,“ grins Doctor Engelhorn.

Mrs Engelhorn scans the audience. „I think I know who will win the People's Choice Award, if nothing else~!“

Bastien and Anaïs go incandescent with pride.

Father—

Hermann startles.

—clears his throat as he materializes at Hermann's side.

Bastien controls a cringe, pivots, greets, „Hello, Father.“

Doctor Engelhorn lights up, steps over, offers his hand. „Mr—“

„/ **Doctor.** “ Father shakes.

„—Doctor Gottlieb. Stefan Engelhorn.“

„A pleasure, Doctor.“ He bobs his chin. „Mrs Engelhorn.“

„Haven't our little ones done a wonderful job?“ she coos.

„It's certainly a fine bit of work.“

„It's especially fine considering they had so little time to work together on it,“ points out Doctor Engelhorn.

Father is impassive.

„An engineer such as yourself must be so **proud**!“

„I appreciate the effort—“

The line of Bastien's shoulders goes taut.

„—that went into the design and execution.“

Mrs Engelhorn controls a frown.

Doctor Engelhorn doesn't.

Father bends, pokes at a join between two cardboard pieces.

„Please don't touch that,“ says Bastien. „It's really fragile.“

Father _hmph_ s, but straightens and leaves it alone.

Mrs Engelhorn tries again. „Bastien is your youngest?“

„Yes.“

„And you have four children?“

„Yes.“ Father puts his shoulders back. „Dietrich is a physician here in the city, Karla is abroad earning her doctorate, Hermann is a student at TU Berlin, and you know Bastien already, it seems.“

„We've only just met him tonight, but Anaïs has told us a bit about him.“

Father grunts.

Anaïs and Bastien ignore him to chat with the school director about their machine.

„You are so blessed with such wonderful children,“ says Mrs Engelhorn. „We tried for so **long** for one of our own, but ....“

„It wasn't meant to be,“ finishes Doctor Engelhorn.

„Then a colleague of Stefan's introduced us to Anaïs and we fell in love. She's the daughter we hoped for.“ She strokes Anaïs' hair.

Anaïs smiles, leans into the gentle touch.

Hermann tightens his grip on his cane as his heart impales itself on a rib.

Bastien slinks over, nudges his foot—

Hermann drags his attention to him.

—whispers, 「Wish we were theirs, right?」

「They certainly have a different attitude toward their child.」

「A **better** one.」

Hermann shrugs.

「Have you ... do you ever wonder what it'd be like to be wanted?」

「Not for a long time.」 Hermann takes a deep breath to brace himself, asks, 「You?」

「Every time I see kids with their families.」

Father gives them a Look.

Hermann cringes.

Bastien sniffs, turns his back, and resets the machine for another run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [mac steve](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mac/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mac/2506333298/).
> 
> It took so _long_ for me to find Anaïs' adoptive parents. They're awful shy with people outside the page, though they're friendly enough on it.
> 
> And, yeah, Lars is still a jerk.


	69. Interlude: Brush Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's not the only Gottlieb secretly passing notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 November 2006  
> Berlin, Germany

\- look at them grow! (03/11/23, Koffiefontein) -

Bastien drags himself to his feet as the bell finishes ringing, trudges with his classmates toward his physical education class.

Anaïs, plodding from her own exercise session, flashes a smile—

He grins back—

—bumps Bastien's hand with hers—

—slips the tiny folded note into his trouser pocket.

The period—and the football game against Marko's homeroom—zips by, then they all tramp back to the classroom for maths.

Bastien plops into his chair, digs out his maths text, checks the board—review!—controls a happy dance, carefully unfolds the note behind his book.

He picks out the substitutions of Manny's new code, then resets his brain for French and reads.

Dear Bastien,

In a way I'm glad that my Grandfather isn't the same person as your Father, even if it means we're not family. This way, at least, I don't have to worry about Grandfather sending him Away if your family isn't happy with you.

If there ever is trouble for you, my parents love and would adopt you, so I suppose I shouldn't worry at all.

I can't help it, because my heart would break if you left.

Love,  
Anaïs

Bastien chews his lip, reads that last sentence again, his chest tightening down on his lungs and heart. He pulls a clean sheet of the paper Anaïs pre-creased from the pocket in the back of his notebook, picks up his pencil, and slowly encodes his answer.

Dear Anaïs,

My Opa told me family is who you love, not who you're related to. That means we're family (and me and Father aren't).

Don't worry about me leaving, either. I'm going to stick around if only to spite Father. Someone also has to watch out for Hermann until he can go back to England.

I'd miss you, too, if you went away.

He frowns at the paper, adds,

So, please, never leave.

Yours,  
Bastien

With a small sigh, he folds the note, slips it in his pocket, then he braces his chin with his hand and pays half-attention to the rest of the lesson, marking time until he can pass the message to Anaïs on the way to lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [FreeUsePhotos](https://www.flickr.com/photos/139223434@N08/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/139223434@N08/26447905855/).
> 
> This was written in a rush, so it's really rough, but I'm posting it anyway because it sets up something that needs to happen later.


	70. EDITORIAL NOTICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All chapters after this marker subject to change in an ongoing round of revisions. Proceed with caution, please.

Please see the chapter summary for information.


	71. Muppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan confides some of his fears in his oldest friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 January 2007  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- The newest K-Scientist encounters a workplace hazard. — 「Feng, 2017/10/30, Hong Kong」 -

""You're not awake **yet**?""

Edan, face-down in his pillow, blankets up to his nape, and still in his pajamas, grumbles, "Sod off."

The mattress dips under Trinity's weight and there's a sharp poke to the back of his head.

""Yea, not a chance, Beaker.""

"I've asked you at least a **billion** times not to call me that."

""But you're my little ginger muppet, yea?"" Trinity twists, drapes herself across his back.

"How much weight've you gained?"

""Only a couple of kilos, mostly in my hips. **Finally** have some **and** I'm up to a C-cup.""

"Congratulations," Edan wheezes.

""Heaven bless prescription hormones.""

"Yea, yea, but could you get off 'fore you crush me?"

""But I'm almost comfy with your bony butt under so many layers.""

"Triniiiiiiii ...."

She sighs, pushes back upright. ""Now, you need to drag your ass out of bed and get about your day.""

Edan snorts.

""This isn't like you. You're usually a most annoying ray of sunshine mornings.""

"Not feeling very sunny lately."

""Did you go out drinking again last night?""

"God no. I'm still wonky from New Year's."

Trinity giggles. ""You are the single lightest lightweight I've ever clapped eyes on. What'd you have at that party? Two whole pints?""

"Fuck you I'm not **that** weak."

""Whatever you say."" Trinity pats his head. ""The rest of your gene pool can drink like bloody fish. What the hell happened with you?""

"Why're you even here?"

""I stopped by to give Fennie a lift to her check-in, then out for a spot of shopping. I heard you were yet to put in an appearance and volunteered to come up here and roust you.""

"Gee, thanks."

""So ... this isn't just a hangover.""

Edan grunts.

""What is it?""

He sighs, "I miss Hermann." Drags his head around. "The fucking letters aren't enough. I want to **touch** him, ye know?"

Trinity hums. "It's gotta be tough."

Edan digs himself out, sits up. "It fucking **sucks** is what it does."

"You sure you don't want to find someone—"

" **No.** You—" Runs a hand through his hair. "You need to meet him. He's absolutely amazing."

"He **must** be to have you in this state."

Edan sighs, slumps further.

Trinity bumps his shoulder. "I don't think I've seen you this mopey since Davey Morrison threw Indiana into the drain."

"I loved that stuffie," mumbles Edan.

"I know. The tears you shed ...."

"I was bloody six."

"'course you were, but you're telling me you haven't shed a drop or two over your Hermann?"

"Well, no, I—but—" Huffs.

Trinity nudges him.

Edan sighs. "I think I've **finally** found the one for me and I can't even fucking hold his hand because his assbeast dad—" Makes a frustrated noise.

"You thought I was the one for a while, too, if you remember."

His face flames and he ducks his head. "Trinity, I've loved you for **ever** , but it'd never've worked out."

"Nope. We're much better as friends."

Edan rubs the back of his neck. "I wasn't **that** bad a date, was I?"

"You were a **perfect** boyfriend and there're even days I wish I could tempt you into being bi to have you back."

"I hope I get a chance to prove how good I am to Hermann."

"You will, but you have to get out and face the day first, Beaker."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I will when you stop acting the muppet."

Edan growls, whacks Trinity in the middle with a pillow.

Trinity laughs, yanks it from his hands, and wallops him over the head.

"Uncle!"

_whack whack whack_

"Nuh uh!"

_whack whack_

"Auntie!"

Trinity relents. "That's better."

"You're evil."

"And I'm your best friend. What does that say about you?"

"That I'm **completely** mad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Jess Liotta and Colin Liotta](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jessandcolin/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jessandcolin/1674542041/in/photostream/).
> 
> Sometimes I forget my readers don't live in my head, so it's good to be reminded sometimes. This chapter is brought to you by Gothams_Only_Wolf's question about exactly what the history between Edan and Trinity is. This covers most of it. XD


	72. Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's eighteenth birthday _finally_ arrives and with it comes a very special letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 June 2007  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Elmendorf-Richardson, July 2017 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann limps into the foyer and drops his rucksack.

„„Welcome home, birthday boy!““

„Thanks, Bunny,“ Hermann calls back.

Bastien flies into the foyer as Hermann finishes lining up his shoes, hugs him tight. „Feel like an adult?“ Leans closer, whispers, „Ready to make your escape?“

„Not until May.“ Hermann's voice turns steely. „I'll graduate, then I'm moving to England and never coming back.“

„You'll still visit me, though, right?“

„O-of course. I'm sorry. I get carried away when I think about leaving.“

Bastien releases him. „I knew you wouldn't abandon me.“

„Never.“

„Dee dropped off something for you before his shift.“ Bastien's eyes gleam. „It's in your sock drawer.“

„Thank you.“ Hermann swallows. „I should, uh, go change for the evening.“

Bastien grins.

Hermann shuffles to his room, drops his bag next to his desk, forces his feet to carry him to his dresser.

Pulls open the top drawer.

The package has the proverbial plain brown wrapper. No address, no postage, no marks.

Hermann reverently lifts it, hands trembling as he does, and ferries it across the room, keeping tight hold as he perches on the edge of the bed.

Reconsiders.

Heaves his legs onto the mattress, scoots back until his wings hit the headboard.

He takes a deep breath, gingerly tears open one end.

Reaches inside, pulls out a folded piece of soft, black cloth.

A note follows, flutters to his lap.

Hermann sets the cloth aside, looks at the paper.

Four lines, written in gloriously familiar square penmanship.

10 June 2007, 17:00

Followed by a name and an address near the university.

Hermann lifts the note with a shaking hand, turns it over.

A great red zero.

Hermann grins, knowing he looks like a lovestruck fool and **completely** not caring.

„„Manny! What do you want to drink?““

„Water will be fine!“ Hermann shouts back.

He squeezes the note to his chest, flutter-kicks the quilt, wings twitching wildly against his binding.

Takes a deep breath.

Picks up the cloth, shakes it out.

A t-shirt, emblazoned with a familiar design and text in white ink.

Unknown Pleasures. Joy Division.

Flicks his eyes to the door, listening carefully.

Presses the cloth to his nose, inhales.

Sighs at the generic smell of new clothing.

Hermann drops his hands and the shirt to his lap, lets his head fall back against the wall, closes his eyes.

„„Aren't you ready **yet**? I've got the snacks~!““

Hermann lifts his head, wipes his eyes on his shoulder. Pushes off the bed, tucks the note in his pocket, hobbles to the dresser, tucks the shirt away under his boxers. Takes a deep breath and fishes a loose henley and pajama bottoms from another drawer.

„„Ready yet?““

„I'm changing!“

„„Hurry up!““

Hermann huffs, strips off his layers, even the binding. He takes a moment to stretch his wings, then folds them down and shimmies into his evening clothes, wings loose beneath the shirt.

„Are you ready **yet**?“ whines Bastien, drink in hand, from the doorway.

„Am I **ever** not ready to stare at David Tennant for an hour?“

Bastien chokes on his soda. „I still don't know what you see in him. He's too skinny. And freckled. And Scot—“

Hermann grins.

„Oh. Riiiiiiiight.“

„I'll meet you in the sitting room.“ Steers Bastien in the proper direction.

„Well, hurry up or you'll miss the beginning.“ Off he goes.

Hermann limps as quickly as he can to the kitchen and lights the stove. He touches the corner of Edan's note to the flame, drops the burning paper into the sink, watches it disappear. After rinsing the ashes down the drain, he goes to join Bastien, so happy he might burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Todd Lappin](https://www.flickr.com/photos/telstar/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/telstar/479563961/).
> 
> An updated version of "[Eighteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1782082)", with what I would call a happier ending.
> 
> Or, for those of you already worrying, a delay in the inevitable. XD


	73. Piece of Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited day of reunion arrives for Hermann and Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 June 2007  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Maccagno, July 2011 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann pays the driver, fumbles out of the taxi and onto the kerb. He rolls his shoulders to settle his shirts, brushes a hand over his chest, and, reassured his binding is still fastened down tight, opens the door to the building whose address Edan had indicated.

A wave of curry scent meets him and memories bubble up.

A chair scrapes across the floor.

Hermann opens his eyes—

**Edan.**

—Edan smiles at him, sketches an awkward wave, rasps, "Long time, no see."

Hermann lunges for him, cane clattering to the floor, buries his face in the curve of his neck.

Strawberry and cheap laundry soap.

Edan rocks back a half-step, cradles Hermann gently, steadies them. ""Missed you, too.""

A wing—

Hermann startles, pulls away.

"Is everyth—"

"J-just want a better look at you."

Edan's freckles hide—he's blushing dear God he's beautiful—and he steps back. "Then let's sit down so you can get an eyeful and some food." He bends, picks up Hermann's cane, passes it back.

"Thank you." Hermann wipes his palms on his trousers and accepts, then follows Edan to a table for two against the far wall. He eases himself into the chair Edan pulls out for him.

Edan watches, grinning like a lunatic.

Hermann smiles back just as widely, his heart bruising itself against his ribs..

Edan—of course—breaks the silence, announces, "You're taller."

Hermann laughs. "My family grows late." Cocks an eyebrow. "You've grown, too."

"Wha? I'm the same—"

Hermann anchors his eyes on Edan's cheek.

"Oh! The beard!" Strokes his chin. "I got sick of being mistaken for a primary schooler on a tour instead of a student, so: fur!"

"Has it worked?"

"Still get told I'm tall for my age."

Hermann nearly doubles over—

Edan snickers.

—straightens up, wipes his eyes. "This is really happening, right? I'm not dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming. Cross my heart." Gestures. "I can show you my plane ticket if you want more proof."

Hermann waves it off, sighs back into his chair.

Edan ruffles his hair, looks at Hermann through his eyelashes.

Hermann counts the freckles across his nose.

„May I help you?“ asks the teenager who bustles over to them.

Hermann startles.

"Could you? My German's non-existent."

„Two—“ Clears his throat, continues in a less strangled voice, „Two of your basic curry plates, please, and two masala teas.“

„I'll have that for you in a moment.“

„Thank you.“

"Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome."

With that, hey fall into conversation as easily as if they had seen each other previous day, not five-hundred-forty-one days before, pausing only to chew and swallow mouthfuls of curry and bread.

Their meals are long gone and the restaurant owner has been giving them the evil eye for a while when they finally stand and head for the door, Hermann dragging his feet.

Edan stops beside the door, stretches his arms over his head. "The food there's good, but not as good as Kamal's."

"Agreed." Hermann shuffles his feet, takes a deep breath. "I don't want to go back to my house just yet."

"We could, umm, go to a coffee shop?"

"I'd rather go someplace I could stretch out my knee ...."

Edan rubs his neck, mumbles, "My room? It's right around the corner? If that's not too—"

"That's just fine," Hermann assures.

Edan smiles, offers his arm.

Hermann accepts and they set off, arriving at a small guest house after a pleasant stroll.

Edan lets them in, leads the way down a side hallway, unlocks a wooden door at the very end, and bows Hermann inside.

Hermann wobbles across the space, perches on the edge of the mattress.

Edan finishes with the chain and bolt, floats around, sits beside Hermann so that their arms barely brush.

Hermann's face heats, but he steels himself and says, "I'd like to put my back against the headboard and really rest my leg."

"Oh. Okay. No worries." Edan scoots toward the foot of the bed.

"I'd really like it if you sat beside me." Swallows. "Close. Like we did before I left."

Edan positively glows as Hermann grins and pulls himself into place, then settles beside him and melts.

Hermann sighs into his side, rests his head on Edan's shoulder.

"That's better."

"Much."

They breathe together for a few minutes.

"May I put an arm around you and, uh, play with your hair?"

"Go ahead."

"Brilliant," hums Edan.

A warm weight settles on the tops of Hermann's shoulders—clear of his wings thank all that's holy—and gentle fingers card his hair.

Hermann purrs.

"You should grow this out a little longer."

"Why's that?"

"It's really soft and nice between my fingers and it'll be easier to handle if there's more of it."

"Ah." Hermann nestles closer, a smile growing. "Is that why you wear yours a little shaggy? Better handling?"

"Hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe?" His hand stills on Hermann's scalp and he nuzzles Hermann's temple. "But I like scratching better than stroking or pulling, anyway."

Hermann swallows, shifts.

Edan resumes carding.

"Why ... why do you keep waiting for me?"

"Because ...." Edan takes a deep breath. "Because you're the most wonderful person I know—except for Fenella and I **don't** want to kiss her—"

Hermann snorts a laugh.

"—but I do want to kiss **you**."

Hermann clears his throat, still croaks, "Then please do."

Edan pulls away and shifts for a better view of Hermann's face. "I'd love to, but ground rules first."

Hermann blinks. "Wha? Why? I thought we'd just—" Vague gesture. "—go."

Edan rubs the back of his neck. "Because I had a couple of bad experiences getting carried away and did some things I wasn't ready for and **really** regret."

"Oh."

"So, we stop at making out. Hands stay above the belt. 'No' or 'stop' means we separate and freeze."

Hermann drops his eyes. "A-and no touching my back."

"No touching your back. Got it."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," says Edan, leaning in and capturing Hermann's lips with his.

It's a back and forth, a game, a dance, and—the handful of times he clacks their teeth together aside—the greatest feeling Hermann's had in his godforsaken life.

His lips are swollen and sore when Edan pulls away and he **still** chases.

"I need a bit of a breather," Edan pants.

"O-okay," sighs Hermann.

"Don't you worry your little head now—" Pokes Hermann's nose.

Hermann swats, laughing.

"—I'll get my second wind in a bit."

"You'd better."

"Don't worry. I want to make as much of this time as I can."

Hermann's heart stutters. "Wh-when do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning." Fluffs his hair. "I didn't want to press my luck first time out, so I kept it short."

"Probably wise," Hermann concedes.

"I wish I could stay, but I can't."

"I know—" A deep breath. "—and it hurts."

"It's not for much longer." Strokes his hair. "I'll visit whenever I can and you'll be back in Britain before you know it. Then we can see each other every weekend, at least."

Hermann nods.

"It's only next August. We can make it 'til next August."

"Piece of cake," rasps Hermann.

"Piece of cake," agrees Edan, continuing to card his fingers through Hermann's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [raz1940 et Charlotte](https://www.flickr.com/photos/raz1940/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/raz1940/10837066144/).
> 
> Goodness, I've wanted to write this one from the beginning: Hermann and his adorkable Scottish boyfriend being young and in love and awkward and sweet as all get-out. I may have shed IRL tears.


	74. By Any Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dietrich and Sabine's wedding gives Hermann and Edan a reason to see each other again _and_ provides Bastien a chance to be an excellent brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 June 2008  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Maypole (2012; from Andrea!) -

Edan peers at his reflection in the washroom mirror.

Frowns.

Pokes his hair.

Twitches the knot in his tie.

Frowns.

Pokes.

Twitches.

A knock at the door; he jumps almost out of his shoes, darts to the door, flings it open.

Hermann lunges, hugs him tight, mumbles, "I've missed you."

"Same, _leannan_." Kisses his hair, drapes his arms across his shoulders. "Good thing your sister-ish **insisted** I show myself, yea?"

Hermann sighs, leans into him.

Voices approach along the hall.

Hermann eeps, pushes Edan backwards into the room, stumbling—

Edan flails. "Your cane—"

"Damn it." Hermann separates, doubles back for the stick as Edan perches on the edge of the mattress.

Hermann closes the door, limps over, leaning more heavily on his cane than the last time.

"Are you al—"

"What have you done to yourself?"

"Wha?"

Hermann aims his hands for Edan's neck. "You've **completely** botched the knot." Sets to retying it.

Edan relaxes. "No one'll be looking at me, love."

Hermann bites his lip, ties more aggressively.

"I know you're worried about what your dad's gonna get up to, but there's no need to take it out on my neckwear."

Hermann pries his hands away, lets his shoulders slump. "I don't want him to ruin this day."

Edan tugs him down to sitting beside him. "It's on the old man if he does, not you or me. There's nothing we can do to get his head out of his ass before the happy couple leave on honeymoon."

Hermann sighs.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, no matter what he says. Promise." Grins. "Can't guarantee I won't shed tears, though."

Hermann smiles at that.

"That's more like it." Pats his pockets, looks over sheepishly. "Don't have a spare hankie, do you?"

Hermann rolls his eyes, offers a scrap of white cloth from a pocket. "Borrow mine."

"Won't you need it?" Edan tucks it away.

Hermann shakes his head. "I don't cry."

"You're kidding."

"There's no benefit in it." Hermann pushes off.

Edan follows suit. "Except feeling better."

Hermann scoffs and really, truly limps for the door. "We're going to be late."

"No, we're not." Gets hold of Hermann's free arm, tugs him to a stop. "Take a deep breath and **relax**."

Hermann slumps, exhales shakily, turns. "I apologize." Looks up through his lashes. "I should be beside myself you're here, but I just can't ... I wish ...."

"I could stay he—"

" **No.** Don't—" Swallows. "Sabine wants you there."

"What about you?"

"I ...."

Edan waits, heart in throat.

"I want you to stay. Not go back after." Sets his jaw. "But that's selfish and stupid and I can't—" Deflates further.

"Two and a half months, Hermann. Then we'll be on the same island and three hours of train time apart."

Hermann shakes his bowed head, miserable.

Edan swallows. "May I hug you?"

"Please, don't," he croaks.

"Alright." Rolls his shoulders, trying to shake loose tension. "It's—it's not much better, I know that, but it's better than the most of a continent, yea?"

"But why are w—you still waiting for me? It's not like we'll ever—" Shuts his mouth with a click.

"Have one of these blowouts of our own? As you hopefully know, a partnership between us registered in my country has all the rights and responsibilities as the blessed union we're about to witness and one in this fine nation has most of 'em."

Hermann blinks rapidly.

"You think I haven't done my homework? I looked this up within the hour when I heard you were banned from coming back." Ruffles his hair. "Wanted to see if I could marry you out of house arrest."

Hermann keeps blinking.

"I, uh, couldn't think of another way to help?"

"You—" Blinks more, squeaks, "You seriously thought about marrying me?"

"Well, yea." Edan shrugs. "Two birds, one stone, right?"

"You ... you're **insane**."

"Maybe? But I like what I see."

Hermann flushes bright pink, drops his eyes to his perfectly shined shoes.

Edan takes one of Hermann's hands, brushes its back with his lips. "Now, may I have the honour of escorting you to what will surely be the fete of the season?"

A laugh bursts out of Hermann and he straightens, hand over his heart and batting his eyelashes. "Why, Squire Reid! I'm flattered! Of **course** I'll accompany you!"

"Splendid!" Edan offers his arm—

Hermann links his.

—checks his pocket for his key. "Let's be off!

Hermann grins and away they go, from the hotel to the cab stand to a little garden park festooned with rainbows of crepe and bright flowers and a squadron of **very** happy people—

And one person who's definitely **not**.

Edan leans close to Hermann's ear. «Sourpuss at ten o'clock's your dad?»

Hermann glances, stiffens, grunts an affirmative. «Please don't—»

«I'm not going **anywhere** near him; don't worry. Just wanted to confirm who I'm avoiding.»

«Thank you.»

«For what—»

"Hi! You must be Edan!"

He turns—"Holy sh-heck! There's two of you!"

Hermann sighs.

"Get told you look alike a lot, then?"

"All. The. Time," huffs the younger Hermann.

"Edan, this is my brother, Bastien," says the older.

Edan bows. "Please to make your acquaintance, young sir."

"The same, sir," laughs Bastien.

"And who is your **beautiful** escort?"

The brunette beside Bastien curtsies. "Anaïs Dufour, Mister ...?"

"Reid. But call me 'Edan', please."

"Delighted to meet you, Edan."

"C'mon—" Bastien grabs his arm, tugs. "—let's go get drinks before things start."

"Apparently, I'm needed over here. Back in a moment!" Edan waves, lets Bastien tow him across the park in the general direction of a buffet table—

Which Bastien marches **straight** past, opting instead to trap Edan against a brick wall.

Edan raises an eyebrow.

"Are you in love with Manny?" Bastien demands in a whisper.

"Yea, I am." Cocks his head. "That alright with you?"

"Only as long as you're good to him."

"A sensible policy," agrees Edan. "You've got my permission to **soundly** kick my ass if I ever hurt him."

"Like I need your permission," scoffs Bastien.

"Well, no, of course you don't, but I promise not to scamper." Puffs up a little. "I daresay I'm **quite** the sprinter when my health's on the line."

Bastien grins, steps back, relaxes, only to tense up again immediately.

"What's—?"

"Hsst!"

Edan shushes, listens.

Conversations in German—one hissed—another couple in what might be Turkish, laughter.

«You speak French, right?» Bastien says, low.

Edan nods.

«Father's talking to his da—calling you—» Grimaces.

«Fairy? Fruit? Faggot? Pansy? Poof?»

Bastien blinks, open-mouthed. «How ...?»

Edan smiles, shrugs. «I've been called them all **and** worse, including one time a couple of lads decided to punctuate some of the usual ones with a cricket bat.»

Bastien winces, listens for a beat, then growls, eyes fiery.

«Moved on to bad-mouthing Hermann, yea?»

Bastien grits his teeth, nods.

«You know, listening to him isn't getting our dates their drinks.»

«Yea.» Forces himself to exhale. «Good point. Let's do that.»

«And get out of earshot of the bastard before one of us is tempted to resort to violence.»

Bastien laughs a little, heads off for the punchbowl.

Edan follows, but adds a little detour to cut across Hermann's dad's line of sight, beaming and waving as he strolls by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Jennifer Arrow](https://www.flickr.com/photos/21314081@N00/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/21314081@N00/7161724608/).
> 
> This one was a delight after I found the angle from which to attack it: that being 'turn Bastien loose at the point you've gotten stuck'.


	75. Better Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann earns his first job, despite Edan's best efforts at distracting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 September 2008  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- a touch-up for Crimson Typhoon (12/02/21, Hong Kong) -

**hermann_g:** Stop txtg!

 **hermann_g:** Im in class!

 **edan_the_red:** So m I

 **edan_the_red:** ✌(◕◡◕)✌

 **hermann_g:** (－_ლ)

Hermann stuffs the mobile in his trouser pocket, resolves not to touch it again before the end of the session. He sighs and glances up at the teaching assistant at the front of the room.

The white board is covered with errors.

Absolutely **covered**.

He clears his throat, say, "Excuse me? Mr Wheeler?"

"Yes?"

"You've made a number of mistakes in your example, starting in step two, where the multiplier should be—"

"I suppose you think you can do a better job?" sneers Wheeler.

Hermann lifts his chin. "Yes, I do."

"Then go ahead." Wheeler drops his marker on the table, stomps aside.

Hermann limps up to the board, picks up the eraser, wipes the board clean. Then he steps through the exercise as though he was explaining the solution process to Bastien.

To his surprise, it flows easily and it appears his classmates are actually **listening** to him.

He finishes, turns to face the room. "Any questions?"

Heads shake.

Including Doctor Arnold's—when did he come in?

Hermann swallows.

"We're done here," announces Wheeler. "See everyone on Wednesday."

Chairs scrape, feet scuffle as Hermann erases the board. When it's clean, Hermann heads across the mostly empty room for his things.

"Mr Gottlieb?"

Hermann startles, wobbles to a stop. "Yes, Doctor Arnold?"

"How would you like an assistantship?"

Hermann blinks. "Excuse me, sir?"

"I've never seen a new graduate student do such an excellent job teaching." Snorts a laugh. "You actually had **Ms** **Barker** paying attention, which, I don't need to tell you is impressive."

Hermann smiles, sheepish.

"I'd like to hire you on—as a substitute this term and full-time in the spring."

"That's very—"

"There's a tuition waiver and a stipend."

"I'll have—"

" **Please** take the job."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll take the job."

Arnold offers his hand—

Hermann accepts.

—shakes. "Wonderful! Drop by during my office hours tomorrow and we'll take care of the paperwork."

"I'll do that, sir."

"'til then!" Arnold skips out.

Hermann watches him, shakes his head clear, collects his bag, slings it over his shoulder.

His mobile vibrates.

 **edan_the_red:** Class is over so u can talk to meeeeee

Hermann rolls his eyes.

 **hermann_g:** Guess who's the newest TA in the physics dept?

 **edan_the_red:** I'll have to think abt this ....

 **edan_the_red:** That barker kid u talked abt?

 **hermann_g:** Try again, ye silly donut

 **edan_the_red:** Could it be ...

 **edan_the_red:** YOU????

 **hermann_g:** Could be

 **edan_the_red:** CONGRATS!

 **edan_the_red:** MY BOYFREIND IS SMARTST BOYFRIEND

 **hermann_g:** I have to be to make up for yr terrible spelling

 **edan_the_red:** (ᑊᘩᑊ)

 **hermann_g:** <3

 **edan_the_red:** <3

 **edan_the_red:** Have time to skype tnight?

 **hermann_g:** I'll connect when i'm ready

 **edan_the_red:** YAY!

With a fond sigh, Hermann sets out for his residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Sir Mildred Pierce](https://www.flickr.com/photos/sirmildredpierce/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/sirmildredpierce/39145112/).
> 
> A little fluff that pleases me immensely, especially Edan's text messaging voice.


	76. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann hosts Edan overnight for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 October 2008  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- Puanga-rua, October 2025 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann shifts his feet, passes his cane from sweaty hand to sweaty hand.

Checks his watch.

"" _Leannan_!""

Searches the crowd for—

Edan emerges from the sea of bodies grinning and waving.

Hermann wobbles to him, drapes his arms around his neck, croaks, "Good to see you."

"Ditto." Edan laces his fingers on Hermann's nape, touches their foreheads together.

"When do you have to leave?"

"I just got here!"

"I want to know how much 'together' we have to cram in."

Edan laughs—

Hermann's heart flutters.

—says, "Sunday night—" Nuzzles his hair. "—so we've got plenty of time."

Hermann sighs contently.

"What're your plans for me?"

"Lock you in my room with an endless supply of tea, coffee, and snacks."

"Brilliant." Grins. "Shall we get started on that?"

"Let's." Hermann pulls away reluctantly, threads his arm through Edan's, and floats them from the station to his building, chatting idly the entire way.

"Give me a moment to check my post."

"I'll just soak in the atmosphere."

Hermann chuckles, peers into his cubbie.

A letter, plain white envelope, addressed with Bastien's looping letters.

He frowns, gathers it and the junk mail, unlocks the door, tugs Edan through and down the hall to his room.

They kick their shoes into the closet, hang their coats.

"Mind if I finish my reading for Monday before I settle into being your pet?"

"Go ahead. I have some reading to do, too."

"Great." Edan digs a book and a gift-wrapped box from his backpack. He offers the latter.

Hermann tucks Bastien's letter under his arm, raises an eyebrow.

"Flat-warming gift from my mum."

"She didn't need to do anything."

"She in- **sisted** it's not a proper British household without one." Shrugs helplessly.

Hermann shakes his head, leads the way to the bed, clambers up and sits with his back against the wall, legs stretched across the mattress the short way. "Apologies for the lack of seating."

"It's a student room. They're not built for comfort." Edan sits close beside him, arms brushing. "You should be glad you have a private bathroom again."

Hermann grunts, carefully carefully picks open the tape on the present, removes the wrap, opens the box, roots about in the tissue paper.

A china tea cup and saucer: delicate, decorated with thin lines and flowers and branches finely drawn in dark colours, maybe black and a blood-red.

"It's lovely," he breathes, snuggling it back in its tissue nest.

"She'll be happy to hear you like it. We'll try it out later, yea?"

"Of course. Put it on the desk for me?"

"But of course!" Edan takes the box, flops, wiggles, nudges it to relative safety away from the edge of the desktop. He sits up, frowns.

"What?"

"It'll be hard to turn pages squashed up tight against each other. How 'bout I tuck up on the corner side and you use me as a pillow? Stretch out and relax?"

Hermann hearts skips a happy beat. "That sounds lovely."

"Brilliant." Edan crawls to the far side—pausing to peck Hermann's cheek on the way—tucks a pillow behind his back and settles in.

Hermann eases himself over onto his back, head in Edan's lap.

Edan glows down at him.

Hermann beams back, opens Bastien's note.

Edan turns his attention to his reading, a rather dry-looking textbook.

Hermann unfolds sheets of notebook paper, reads.

23 / 9 / 08

Hey Manny.

Since I don't want Father to know I'm talking to you about this: snail mail!

Manny, I'm going crazy here. Father is so much worse than ever. Yea, there's still no mobile and he still watches my email and he still won't let me hang out with friends, but now he yells all the time. About everything. I can't even breathe right for him anymore.

Then there's my marks. No perfect score? He screams, calls me a disappointment and a delinquent, everything he used to call you actually, including 'monster'.

How am I supposed to be a normal kid like this?

Why does he hate us like he does?

Hermann runs a hand through his hair.

"Everything alright?"

"No. Bastien's having trouble."

Edan rests his book next to himself. "Law trouble? Datemate trouble? Health trouble?"

"Father trouble."

Edan hisses.

Hermann sighs.

"What is that man's **problem**?"

"Hmm?"

"How can he treat his own kids so badly?"

"He never wanted Bastien and I: only Mother did."

"That's no excuse," Edan sniffs.

Hermann shrugs.

"I mean, my dad always jokes Fen-fen should've been named 'Single Malt' because that's the entire reason she's here—"

Hermann chokes a laugh.

"—but that's never stopped him from spoiling her as rotten as he can."

"Our fathers are very different people."

"Yea, yours is an ass and mine isn't." Edan blinks a couple of times, then a slow smile creeps across his face.

"What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about the show we'd get introducing them."

"Oh?"

"Your old man makes **one** comment like he did at the wedding and mine'd give him the tongue-lashing of a **lifetime**." Chuckles. "He's also nigh-two meters tall and built like a brick shithouse—before you ask, I take after my mum—so he could probably make the man piss himself if he felt like it."

"That might be worth the price of admission."

"Want me to arrange it?"

Hermann waves him off, goes back to the letter.

Is it because we look like Mother?

Hermann swallows around the lump in his throat.

Or is he just sick of being a parent?

Probably not that, since I suggested he sign me over to an orphanage if he was that disappointed with me last week.

He laughed. LAUGHED.

Then he locked himself in his office for the rest of the night.

I honestly thought about running away. I don't think I will because the police would find me instantly, nevermind making it to you or Dietrich or Karla.

Don't suppose you know of any magic potions that'll make me wake up 18 tomorrow, do you?

Or have a line on where I can find a TARDIS to steal and go adventuring for a few years? I'd take you and Edan with me.

Hermann chuckles.

"What?"

"Bastien says we can be his Companions when he steals a TARDIS."

"Ooo! Sign me up! I could do my doctoral research!"

"The whole of time and space open to you and you're thinking about a measly **degree**?"

"Well, **yea**. I need to keep up with you, Mr Graduate Student."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

A mobile chimes.

"That you or me?"

"Me." Hermann fishes it from his pocket, checks the display. "Is it alright if I take this?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." Hermann accepts the connection. „Hey, Dee.“

„„Hey, Manny. How's uni going?““

„It's been going pretty well. Better than usual today because Edan's here visiting.“

"Hi!"

Dee chuckles. „„That was him?““

„Yea.“

„„Say 'hi' from Sabine and I.““

"Dee and Sabine say 'hi'."

Edan thumbs up.

„How're things with you?“

„„I'm fine, but Sabine is **so** sick. She's barely keeping anything down and she's too sore to even move.““

„Ugh. That sounds terrible. Pass along my sympathy.“

„„She'll appreciate it. Definitely more than she will another meal of ginger ale and pretzels.““ Sighs. „„Hopefully this will be over soon. The second trimester is supposed to be the glory days of pregnancy, but it's starting to look like her body doesn't know that.““

„I'm not sure I'll ever understand why women willingly put themselves through this.“

„„Babies, Manny. It's all about babies.““

Hermann huffs. „About children ... I got a letter from Bastien today.“

„„About Father?““

„Mhmm. Is he exaggerating or is it really getting that terrible for him?“

A deep breath. „„I think it's really that bad. Father's working on some sort of big project that's not going well and he's taking it out on Bunny.““

„Then Bastien, being Bastien, fights back instead of quietly enduring it.“

„„Making Father even more angry,““ finishes Dietrich. „„I wish I could think of a way to help, but my brain's too full of work and house and sick Sabine and how we're going to manage everything when the baby comes with all of our family a thousand kilometers away.““ Deep breath. „„At least parental leave for both of us. We have a little time to figure things out before Sabine goes back to work. If she decides to go back.““ A beat. „„Sorry. **When** she goes back.““

Hermann snorts. „Sounds like **someone** has a plan—“

„„Thank good—““ Rustling noises, muffled voices. „„I need to go hold Sabine's hair. Take care! 'bye!““

The call disconnects.

Hermann drops the mobile on the duvet, sighs, "My family is so complicated."

Edan quirks an eyebrow over his text.

"Bastien wants to become a Time Lord to get away from my father, who's apparently stressed enough to be courting a stroke, while Dietrich is using all his cycles to manage a new house, a new practice, and impending fatherhood. Sabine's too sick to eat **or** work, but—thank God—everything's alright with the baby, and Karla's up to her ears in her dissertation and threatening to burn her library to the ground on a regular basis."

"Don't forget **you've** just started graduate school at a **ridiculously** prestigious university **and** been hired as the youngest TA in the physics department."

"True enough," concedes Hermann, then he smiles. "Thankfully, my boyfriend's visit will provide a **very** welcome distraction from all of that."

"Brilliant! Five more pages and I'll begin distracting you for real."

"Then get to it."

"Yes, sir!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Sirja Ellen](https://www.flickr.com/photos/shaluna/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/shaluna/6186224757/).
> 
> It's really fun burying the seeds of future plot points in a mountain of fluff.


	77. Marvel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann makes a life-altering decision and the aftermath isn't what he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 November 2008  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- like Falcon, like son (14/09/19, Sydney) -

Hermann plods into the study lounge to find Edan slouched on a sofa with his trainers up on a low table, reading. He clears his throat.

Edan jumps, tucks his feet and book away. "Sorry." Smiles sheepishly. "Filthy habit."

"I'm sure your mother raised you better than that."

"Well, yea, but my dad undid all her hard work."

Hermann pulls a frown.

Edan bats his eyelashes.

"Hopeless," mutters Hermann through a grin.

"Good thing you mostly love me, then."

Hermann flops down next to him, amends, "I completely love you."

"Thank God." Rests his head on Hermann's shoulder. "How was the session?"

"Half the class didn't do the reading and the other half didn't understand it properly."

"Good thing they've got a TA who does and's a brilliant teacher, then."

"I'm not sure they agree." Hermann scratches at the hem of his binding. "Are you even capable of saying something negative about me?"

"Nope. Have nothing to say negative things about."

"I'm hardly perfect," grumbles Hermann, letting his head fall back.

"Close enough for me, then."

"You're mad."

Edan shrugs.

Hermann sighs.

They rest like that a bit.

"We should probably get some food, yea?"

"I suppose."

Edan heaves himself out of the cushions, offers Hermann a hand up.

Hermann takes it, lets Edan tug him to feet, settles his bag over his shoulder.

Edan picks up his book, tucks it into his jacket pocket, slings his bag onto his back.

"What're you reading?" asks Hermann as they stroll toward the exit.

"Something Iggy's been begging me to read for **years**." Voice goes pretentious, " _The Angel Experiment_."

Hermann stiffens—a wing twitching—and forces himself to keep walking. "About young people with wings?"

"The very one. You've read it?"

"Nooo ... but I chatted with her about it once."

"Ah, cool. You want to eat in or grab takeaway?"

"I think I'd prefer takeaway."

"That chip place two streets over?"

Hermann grunts assent, leads the way from the building to the restaurant.

Edan pays for their meals and carries them back to Hermann's flat.

They hang up their coats, ditch their shoes and bags; Hermann drops into the lone armchair, Edan straddles the wheelie number at the desk.

Edan—of course—breaks the silence after the meal, says, "When do you think science'll manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"Splice animals and humans. Give people mouse ears or wings or such like."

"You think they will?"

"Of **course** they will. They've already done the reverse, yea? And humans are pretty malleable."

"There seems to be a rather universal template to me."

"Yea, but there's a lot of variation on it."

Hermann scoffs.

Edan frowns at him. "Have I told you about my 'cousins'?"

"Not that I recall."

"Since my dad's rig crew is kind of a big family, we call each other cousins, so—" Waves vaguely. "Well, two of 'em were born with tails, another had webbed toes, and the docs didn't know what 'gender' box to tick on little Blair's birth certificate." Rubs his neck. "We figure it's all the shit our dads breathe on the job."

"Good Lord."

Edan snorts a laugh. "It's either that or Twenty-one's homebrew."

Hermann chokes.

"Me and Fen-fen actually felt kinda left out when we were little 'cause we only had the standard equipment." Chuckles, "Mum's forbidden us to have kids 'cause she doesn't fancy playing den-mother to a superhero team."

Hermann stares.

"So, yea, **lots** of variation. Funny ears and wings are just a **bitty** step further."

"Do you—" Hermann clears his throat. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yea, I do." Edan cocks his head. "What's with all the questions?"

Hermann swallows, straightens his shoulders, hauls himself to his feet. "I have to show you something."

Edan raises an eyebrow. "Alriiight. What should I do?"

"Stay right there."

"Close my eyes?"

"Not necessary."

"Cool."

Hermann turns his back to Edan, peels off his layers, fighting his every instinct in order to continue.

Off goes his jumper.

His shirt.

Undershirt.

A gasp from behind him.

Hermann flinches, regroups, unfastens his binding with shaky fingers, lets it drop.

""Ho-holy ....""

He stretches his wings their full span.

Draws them tight to his back.

Hunches his shoulders, hugs himself.

Silence.

"Say **something** , Edan," he grits out. "Tell me I'm a monster, I'm a freak, I'm **disgusting** —" Swallows. "—that you never want to see me again."

""Wha ... how?""

"My mother spliced my DNA with that of an owl." Shivers. "We think. She never admitted what she'd done."

""May—may I touch th—you?""

Hermann bristles, wings ruffling. "Yes. Go ahead."

 _Shuff_ ing as Edan stands, then fingers slide through the feathers along his spine.

""Wow ... you are **gorgeous**.""

"What?" squeaks Hermann.

Warm breath tickles the down between his shoulder blades.

""Gorgeous, Hermann. I'm having a hard time believing you're real.""

He twists his head around. "Are you **insane**?"

Edan shrugs. "Maybe? But I still like what I see."

Hermann's mouth moves wordlessly. Finally, "How can you ...." Hangs his head.

Edan sinks his fingers deeper into Hermann's feathers, scratching at their roots, says softly, "Cousins with tails, mate. Bitty step."

Hermann blinks a few times, then a laugh bursts free.

Edan laughs, too. "So, yea, like I said, a few feathers aren't enough to scare me off. You'll have to try harder."

"I didn't ...."

"C'mere." Edan gently steers him around, gathers him close, digs his fingers under Hermann's scapulars. "This's no big deal."

Hermann presses his face to the curve of Edan's neck, murmurs, "How are **you** real?"

"I'm a pretty average guy. Absolutely run-of-the-mill."

"But ...." Takes a deep breath. "I thought for sure you'd ...."

Edan smiles against his temple. "I think you need to stop assuming the worst about people, mate. Not everyone's into running about with torches and pitchforks."

"But—" Swallows. "But I'm a monster."

"Ye know 'monster', at its root, means 'marvel', yea?"

Hermann blinks.

"Rhys went on a memorable rant about _Frankenstein_ last term."

Hermann laughs, buries himself Edan's embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Katie](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bio_grrl/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bio_grrl/20781339933/).
> 
> One of the things which always bothered me in Version 1.0 of this story was the way Hermann was 'outed' by force (a choice between his secret on one hand and the entire fucking _planet_ on the other _isn't_ a choice for a person like Hermann), so it's immensely satisfying for me to give him a chance to tell someone on _his_ terms, when and how _he_ decides to.
> 
> And then there's Edan's easy acceptance. I honestly didn't know what he'd do when I started this chapter and was afraid he'd freak out on Hermann and I. Nope! Our little Scottish sunbeam took everything in stride, much to my relief.


	78. Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after revealing his secret to Edan, Hermann admits what he's done to Dietrich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 November 2008  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1742.jpg [Graffiti in Bristol, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann throws a nervous glance over his shoulder.

Water _shush_ es in the the washroom, carrying with it an undertone of song: "Pretty Boys", if he's not mistaken.

He takes a deep breath and prods his mobile to make the connection.

„„Gottlieb,““ yawns Sabine.

Hermann startles, regroups. „Good morning. It's Hermann.“

„„'morning, Hermann. He's getting dressed and'll be just another moment.““

„Thanks, Sabine.“ Rubs his neck. „It, uh, sounds like you might not have slept well?“

She laughs. „„The opposite actually. Dee-two-point-oh has decided me sleeping is a **good** thing. So good, it's tough to wake up.““

Hermann chuckles, „I suppose that's an improvement.“

„„Believe me, it **definitely** is.““

A squawk—

„„Hey, Manny““, greets Dee.

Distantly, Sabine calls, „„'bye, Hermann!““

„'bye, Sabine.“ Swallows. „Good morning. Um, I—“ His throat closes on the words.

„„Manny, are you alright? What's going on?““

„Dee ... I told him.“

A too-long pause.

„„You did.““

„I did.“

„„May I ... may I ask why?““

Hermann pulls trembling wings closer to himself. „We've been getting—“ Voice drops to a whisper, „—um, 'intimate' and he was going to find out sooner or later so I wanted to tell him on my own terms and—“ Swallows again. „—and I trust him.“

„„His reaction?““

„Like it was nothing. As if I'd only dyed my hair.“

„„Where is he now?““

Hermann's heart sinks. „He's in the shower. Dee, what—“

„„I'm sorry. I only want to make sure he's—““

Hermann ruffles. „He's what, Dee?“

A deep breath. „„Safe. You remember Father's warnings—““

„I do. I trust him not to tell a soul, with my life.“

„„Well““, says Dee and there's a smile in his voice, „„I did always say you'd find someone with whom to share everything.““

Hermann wipes a tearing eye. „I never believed you.“

„„No, you never did. So, what have we learned from this experience, hmm?““

„I've learned my big brother is always right.“

„That's right. I am.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cropped from a photo by [duncan c](https://www.flickr.com/photos/duncan/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/duncan/7499485634/in/photolist-sKgeio-85Q57X-5jN24F-85Tf3E-6HBsJR-cqGPNs-oUwRef-gcpCZf-iCt6Ws-gcqLuG-gcrhZ8-4KBrAJ-LaWN5-gcrd7n-gcq9tx-gcqgai-gcpFUv-gcqV3n-gcoMWW-gcpkVn-gcqcF4-gcoWwZ-bHcj7a-gcq4D2-gcrzvV-gcqWLK-gcrs5x-gcpu2T-gcppsn-gcquJA-gcooVe-gcqG2J-gco85X-gcqWz1-gcpd8D-gcqPtr-gcpYqE-gcopgU-gcpC94-gcoN2c-gcpxNR-gcoFuN-6YdJr6-gcqPkS-gcpJSV-gcpjpY-gcp64a-gcpur3-kQ49P-FBopw7#undefined).
> 
> This gelled in a draft-and-a-half over the course of about thirty minutes, one of the fastest chapters in this entire opus.
> 
> The song Edan's singing is [this number by the Au Pairs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47x8esanXvM).


	79. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann finds Bastien an escape from increasing isolation at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 December 2008  
> Berlin, Germany

\- Potato & Pumpkin (10/12/17, Vladivostok) -

The cab driver sets Hermann's suitcase on the top step of Father's house, accepts payment from Hermann, shakes his hand, and marches back to the street.

Hermann steels himself—

Father's voice, raised and angry, from inside.

—gazes heavenward, then digs out his mobile.

**hermann_g:** Im here  & father's yelling

**edan_the_red:** (╥﹏╥)

**hermann_g:** This is not how I want to spend my holiday

Bastien, equally upset, shouts back.

**edan_the_red:** Its for the kid

**hermann_g:** Right

**hermann_g:** For Bunny

**edan_the_red:** Thats the spirit!

**hermann_g:** Yay.

**edan_the_red:** <3

**hermann_g:** <3

Hermann straightens up, rings the bell.

More yelling, voices mixed, from inside.

Rings again.

Shouting—Father's—draws nearer.

The door flies open.

„Hello, Father,“ says Hermann, carefully neutral.

Father grunts, notices the suitcase, yanks it inside. „Bastien! Help your brother with his bag!“

„It's fine, Father, I packed light—“

Bastien yells, „„ **You** help Manny with his bag!““

Father growls, turns on his heel, and vanishes into his office, slamming the door.

Hermann locks up, takes three deep breaths, sheds his shoes.

Silence.

„Bunny?“

More silence.

Frowns, limps deeper into the house, all the way to his old room, now seemingly Bastien's—

Who huddles on the floor, clutching his hair.

Hermann's heart staggers as he kneels beside him. „What's happened?“

„Nothing.“

„I heard the shouting.“

Bastien takes a shaky breath, mumbles, „Father's ordered me to quit the newspaper because my literature marks've dropped to second-best.“

„But that's your only club.“

He nods, miserable.

Hermann eases himself to sitting beside him.

„It's the only place I can talk to my friends.“ Mutters, „The one's who're left.“

„I'm sorry about Anaïs.“

„It's nobody's fault.“

„That doesn't make it any less awful.“

Bastien shrugs.

„I, uh, thought Father gave you—“

„He took it away again after three days because I called Sofie to talk about ....“ Shrugs again.

„That's not—“

„It's just how Father is,“ sneers Bastien.

Hermann cringes. „I'm sorry.“

Bastien drops his hands to his lap, lets his head fall back against the side of the mattress.

Hermann straightens the crease in his trousers.

„Manny ... I don't think I can live four more years like this. I think I'm **already** half-crazy.“ Rubs his neck. „I don't know how you managed without school.“

„I did what I had to do.“

Quietly, „I'm not as strong as you are.“

Hermann nudges his shoulder. „You don't need to be strong, just stubborn.“

Bastien chokes out a laugh, lifts his head.

„All four of us are good at that.“

Bastien sighs to a stop. „Yeaaaaa ....“

Hermann jerks up straighter, grinning, fishes his mobile from his pocket, pokes a contact.

„What're you doing?“

„Possibly finding your way out.“ Waves for quiet. „Dee? Hermann.You and Sabine want help with the house and the baby, yes?“

„What does—?“

Hermann hisses.

Bastien crosses his arms, sulks.

„I **may** have found a suitable candidate for the job.“ Hermann nods absently. „I believe he'd be willing to work for room and board, yes.“

„Are you talking about—“

„Shut it.“

„But—!“

„Shut!“

Bastien huffs.

„So you'll talk to Father about it?“

„It **is** —“

Hermann glares.

Bastien glares back.

„Brilliant! Thanks, Dee. Say 'hi' to Sabine for us.“ Hermann disconnects, grins.

Bastien raises an expectant eyebrow.

„Dee's going to talk to Father about you helping him and Sabine when the baby comes.“

Bastien ....

„You'd be moving to Geneva, probably until you're old enough for university, since they plan on another child or two.“

Bastien **glows**.

„Are you willing to change diapers if it means—“

„ **FUCK** **YES!** “

„That seems settled th—ACK!“

Bastien squishes him harder, squeals, „You're the greatest brother in the history of ever!“

„I'll **be** history in a moment if you don't—“

„Sorry!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [fishhawk](https://www.flickr.com/photos/16502322@N03/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/16502322@N03/15812699883/).
> 
> A spot of light in Bastien's life after the beatings he took in "[Nails](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7958260)" and the first part of this one. I feel like MoiraColleen shoulder take _some_ of the blame for his plight, seeing as I took their suggestions on how Lars would treat Bastien once he was the only child left in the house.
> 
> I really like writing interactions between these two. I'm never quite sure what they're going to say or do, but it's always interesting to me. So much in common, yet so different in how they approach things.


	80. Lovestruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann gets a couple of surprises at a mid-term review session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11 March 2009  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- Nationalpark Bayerischer Wald, August 2010 — Raleigh B. -

""Psst!"" she whispers, not as quietly as she thinks in the small room.  
  
‒Her again. Do not roll your eyes.‒  
  
A new voice, ""What now?""  
  
‒She brought a **friend**? To a review session?‒  
  
""Don't you just want to hug him?""  
  
‒Not another overview of her love life.‒  
  
""Who? The teaching assistant?""  
  
‒ **What?** Keep writing.‒  
  
""Duh! This's the one I told you about.""  
  
‒She's been talking to others? About hugging me? Is she mad as well as annoying?‒  
  
""He's all sharp edges. You could cut glass with those cheekbones, but you'd also cut you.""  
  
‒What does that even **mean**?‒  
  
""He just needs someone to feed him.""  
  
‒I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Miss.‒  
  
""You don't want a boyfriend. You want a kid to mother.""  
  
‒I am not a child and I certainly don't require **your** help.‒  
  
The first girl sticks out her tongue.  
  
‒Aha! Really, if you were trying to get away with this at least change your seat from time to time. Would you be quiet, please?‒  
  
She blushes viciously.  
  
‒That's more like it.‒  
  
She slides lower in her seat. ""Oh god. He hates me.""  
  
‒I simply wish you would let me do my job.‒  
  
""He hates that you're talking in his class—""  
  
‒Yes, I do. So why are **you** talking?‒  
  
""—boy's too serious.""  
  
‒About my work, yes, so will you please let me finish?‒  
  
""He's adorable, though.""  
  
‒She is **completely** mad.‒  
  
The second girl rolls her eyes. ""If you're so interested in him, you should say something. Get to him before someone else does.""  
  
‒You're already too late on that count.‒  
  
""I dunno ... he's out of my league, I think.""  
  
‒I am out of your **species** , young lady, **and** taken.‒  
  
""Do you want me to talk to him for you? 'coz I will.""  
  
‒Please don't. We'll all regret it.‒  
  
""No! No, I'll say something. When the time is right.""  
  
‒There will never be a 'right' time for you.‒  
  
""Well, you'd better hurry up. Who knows if you'll see him again after the term ends.""  
  
‒I can only hope.‒  
  
""Oh god. I don't need that kind of pressure. Why couldn't he just ask **me**?""  
  
‒Because I'm not interested.‒  
  
""Class dismissed~!"" sings a familiar voice from the door. ""Everyone out!""  
  
‒What? Edan?‒  
  
""Ooo. He's cute. I'll take him instead.""  
  
"I made it to the early train after all."  
  
‒Stop blushing.‒  
  
""Oh. Oh my **god**. Is that his **boyfriend**?""  
  
‒Strawberry soap and tea with lemon and honey.‒  
  
"I've missed you."  
  
"Me, too. You." Swallow. "I've missed you, too."  
  
""Yea, that's **definitely** his boyfriend.""  
  
""Oh my gawwwwwwwd ....""  
  
"Coffee?"  
  
"Th-thank you." Clear throat. To the noisy one. "I believe you need to begin studying this evening if you have any dreams of passing this course, Miss Simons."  
  
She squeaks, grabs her things, and flees, towing her friend behind.  
  
"That certainly worked well. You've got a knack."  
  
Shrug.  
  
"How's the coffee? Hoping I got the sugar ratio right this time."  
  
"You had it my last visit."  
  
"Nuh uh. You said it was 'a smidge too sweet'."  
  
"A 'smidge' hardly matters."  
  
"Not when my aim is for perfection." Steps closer, whispers, "To match my boyfriend."  
  
‒Stop blushing, you lovestruck fool.‒

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Dunnock_D](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dunnock_d/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dunnock_d/9485850983/).
> 
> Re-writing this one from an old draft was fun, mostly because it was so pleasant to be switching it from sad!Hermann lamenting his loneliness to smug!Hermann thinking about his significant other.


	81. Say 'Uncle'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's family gets a little bigger with the addition of his first niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 April 2009  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1448.jpg [/ _Fritillaria meleagris_ in Iffley Meadows, Iffley, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann shifts his feet on the squishy path. "You're going to get positively **drenched**."

_che-shah_

"No choice." Edan worms through the wet grass closer to the checkered flowers, mobile in front of his face. "Fen-fen's orders."

"They're just **flowers**."

"They're her **favourite** flowers," corrects Edan.

"So of **course** you're going to try to catch your death photographing them for her."

_che-shah_

"What Fen-fen wants, Fen-fen gets." Squints. "'sides, I'm wearing wool."

"It's going to be wet, muddy wool in a moment, ye muppet."

"I'll change when we get back. 'm not gonna embarrass you in public." Twists around, grinning. "Too badly."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"Just a couple more."

_che-shah_

Hermann sighs, closes his eyes, lifts his chin, soaking up the sunlight filtering through the clouds.

A breeze, warm and wet with spring showers, sneaks through his jumper and shirts and tickles his feathers.

_che-shah_

His wings tremble; he scratches the edge of his binder.

""That should do it.""

Rustling and a grunt as Edan scrambles to his feet.

Hermann once-overs him, picks blades of grass from his jumper. "You're a mess."

"It's not **so** bad. Besides—" Raises a hand beside Hermann's head—

"What're you doing?"

Something thin and light settles behind his ear.

—flourishes, "Tadah!"

"What did you—"

_che-shah_

"Did you just take my picture?"

"Maaaaaybe ...." Displays his mobile screen.

His own face, with a white, bell-shaped flower tucked behind its ear, gazes quizzically at him.

"Delete that!"

"Nope!" Beams. "It's a lovely likeness and I can **never** have too many pictures of my sweetheart." Kisses the tip of Hermann's nose.

He scowls.

"Aww ... you love the attention."

Their mobiles sound off in chorus.

They exchange a look.

"The baby, ye think?"

Hermann shrugs, fishes his out, thumbs open the message, while Edan does the same.

**dee_gee:** Emma Nur Gottlieb is here!

"Congratulations, Uncle Hermann!" cheers Edan, patting his shoulder without looking away from his own phone.

Hermann grunts.

**dee_gee:** Born 12:26

**dee_gee:** 3.4kg, 51cm

**dee_gee:** Blue eyes, ? hair

"What does that mean?"

"The question mark?"

"Yes."

"Not a clue."

Hermann huffs.

**dee_gee:** [Emma.jpg]

"She's **adorable** ," coos Edan.

Hermann blinks at the chubby, squinched face. "She really is." Blinks some more, murmurs, "I don't believe it."

Edan's eyebrow quirks. "You weren't expecting the newest addition to your **gorgeous** gene pool to be **adorable**?"

"I've always thought babies were ... weird-looking."

"Huh. I've always found 'em the cutest ickle things."

"Better modeling, probably."

"Probably." Fluffs his hair. "We should celebrate, yea?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Umm, the rest of the meadow, a couple of pints, and a bad movie or two?"

Hermann moves off along the trail. "That sounds like what we were planning to do anyway."

"It is—" Edan grins, matching step. "—but now we'll be drinking to little Emma."

"I like this plan," laughs Hermann. "To Emma!"

"And her very, very bright future!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [mdavidford](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mdavidford/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/mdavidford/6897167673/in/album-72157629372025703/).
> 
> Edan is a bottomless pot of fluff, I swear.


	82. To Excess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan celebrate Edan's graduation, perhaps a little _too_ enthusiastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 May 2009  
> Manchester, England, United Kingdom

\- we're gonna get Chuck drunk! (23/09/19, Sydney) -

Edan lists dangerously, staggers into Hermann, doubling him over his cane. "Whoop~!"

Hermann forces himself up straight—

Edan slides off, reels—thankfully **away** from the street.

—lunges, shoves Edan up against a convenient shop-front, does his best to pin him there. "Just how many did you **have**?"

"Three—" Beams. "—and another half for luck~!"

"You said you'd be fine until **five**!"

"'m bad at maths."

"You just graduated with bloody honours this afternoon, ye doughnut. I'm pretty sure you know the difference between three and five."

"Four?"

Hermann face-palms, sighs.

Edan tips closer, breath fruity with cider. "I'm **really** bad at maths. 'specially at parties."

Hermann scowls, pushes him closer to plumb, waves the sour air away. "Here I thought 'stinking drunk' was only an expression."

"Nope~!" Edan positively **sparkles**. "I'm livin' poof! Poof?" Furrows his brow, brightens a beat later. " **Proof!** Thaaaat's the word!"

"Yes, that's the word. Good job."

Edan leans in again. "Give us a kiiiiiiss, Lovely."

Hermann bars his approach with a forearm across the chest. "Not until I get us to the hotel."

"Aww ... give over, _leannan_."

"No."

"You're no fun," he pouts, oozes toward the pavement.

Hermann tries—fails to hold him up by the collar.

"Oof."

"Serves you right. Now stay **down**."

He salutes—"Ow! That **hurt**."—rubs a watery eye.

"You're hopeless," Hermann sighs.

"You're just **jealous** I'm fun." Frowns. "Drunk. I'm **drunk**."

"Yes, you are."

"I put the 'fun' in 'drunk'~!"

Hermann pinches the bridge of his nose.

Edan tilts to the right, all the way to lying on his back.

Hermann looks to heaven for patience, digs his mobile from a pocket, checks on Edan.

Who's flat out on his back, hands clasped over his heart.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars," he intones.

"Great. You're plastered and quoting Oscar Wilde." Hermann pokes the mobile contact for a local cab company.

Edan flops over onto his stomach, giggling.

Hermann covers the microphone. "Are you **petting** the ground?"

"Think she likes it."

"Just be careful 'she' doesn't smack you in the fa—Yes, hello. I need a car to come 'round and take a friend and I from in front of Le Lavandin to my hotel on Kings' Way."

""You're the **cuuuuuuutest** little pavement.""

"I'm afraid I may also need assistance manhandling my intoxicated friend into the car. He's very cheery, very nonthreatening, very **not** -sick. He's just legless."

""Ooo! We'll take ye home with us! Would ye like that, sweetie?""

"We're not—" Hermann listens. "Yes, thank you. Cheers, 'bye!" Pockets the mobile, looks down at Edan. "We're not taking the pavement back to the hotel."

"Aww ...."

"Besides, I thought you were gay."

"I can be bi for **you** , Beautiful~!" Edan approximates a leer. "Can we take **you** back t'the hotel?"

Hermann sighs, slides down the wall to sit next to him. "Yes, we can take me back to the hotel."

Edan worms over, rests his head on Hermann's lap. "Brilliant," he sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [currystrumpet](https://www.flickr.com/photos/currystrumpet/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/currystrumpet/9567330623/).
> 
> This is what happens when you ask yourself "what would happen if I got my goofy, lovable character—who's already admitted he's a total lightweight—very, _very_ drunk?"


	83. Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leisurely Saturday morning sees Hermann and Edan discussing past relationships and the direction of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 October 2009  
> Mile End, London, England, United Kingdom

\- how do I even? (02/07/21, Hong Kong) -

Hermann shuffles from the washroom in clean pajamas, flicking his wings to rid them of the last drops of water.

"There enough hot water for you?"

"Plenty."

"Cool," yawns Edan. "You want help with the dusters?"

"No need. I managed to keep them mostly dry." Hermann climbs onto the bed. "Shove over."

Edan grunts, flops onto his side, facing away.

"Not that way, muppet." Hermann sits, back against the headboard, wings partially open.

"Picky picky picky," Edan grumbles through a smile. "Don't suppose I can use you as a pillow if I do."

"I'd actually enjoy that very much."

"Fiiiine." He rolls back, settles his head in Hermann's lap, smiles sleepily up at him.

Hermann glows, runs his fingers through Edan's thick hair.

"So, this morning was good, yea?" purrs Edan, closing his eyes.

"It was," agrees Hermann.

"Anything I should remember for next time?"

Hermann drags his nails along Edan's scalp.

He hums.

"I—" Swallows. "I think I like how we went this morning best of everything we've tried."

Edan opens his eyes, brow wrinkling. "Truly?"

Hermann stills his hands. "Is that alright?"

" **Perfectly.** It's just kinda rare, in my experience."

"Ah." Hermann resumes carding.

Edan lets his eyes slide shut.

"Edan?"

"Hmm?"

"How many, um, partners have you had before?"

"If—" Cringes, eyes focused somewhere off to Hermann's left. "You're the sixth."

"Oh."

"I, uh, started early and my first couple relationships didn't last very long." Sighs. "I was pretty dumb and made a **lot** of mistakes. Thank **God** none of 'em were fatal or contagious."

Hermann cards.

"Is ... is it alright? My history?"

"It's fine," assures Hermann. "It's just ... we're so **different**."

"I wasn't locked away until uni, mate. I had **plenty** of people to be young and stupid with."

Hermann shrugs.

"If you'll let me put a positive spin on this, it means I've done some applied research on how to make it better for you."

Hermann smiles a little. "That doesn't mean you'll stop your investigation, does it?"

"Of **course** not. I want to earn my doctorate."

Hermann snorts, then folds himself over, making a canopy of his wings, and kisses Edan's forehead. "Would you be willing to tutor me?"

"Would be my pleasure."

"Brilliant," sighs Hermann.

Edan smirks. "One more thing ...."

"What's that?"

"I said I was absolutely, totally, **completely** gay, yea?"

"Except for that night with Mandy."

"Mandy doesn't count. We were both too drunk to do anything."

"I rather doubt the pavement was drunk."

Edan huffs. "Back on topic, in the interest of full disclosure, I might actually, **technically** be bi."

"You 'might'?"

"It's kinda complicated, but one of my ex-boyfriends is **really** my ex-girlfriend."

"How is that complicated?"

"Well, it was dating me that, uh, crystallized her identity."

"It was that bad?" snickers Hermann.

"Ha ha ha."

"I'm kidding, of course."

"Of course," sniffs Edan.

"It was because she felt safe with you."

"That's **exactly** what she said." Edan squints at him. "How'd you know?"

"Because that's how I feel."

"Ah. I'm glad."

"I don't think you realize how exceptional you are." Hermann twists a lock of hair around his finger. "You are the very first person aside from my parents and siblings to whom I've shown my wings." Releases the loosely-formed curl. "The first person with whom I've felt safe enough."

Edan reaches up, laces his fingers through Hermann's. "Thank God you do. My life wouldn't be **nearly** as wonderful without you in it."

Hermann smiles, squeezes Edan's hand. "Thank God for **you** , _leannan_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [George Arriola](https://www.flickr.com/photos/lowsrc/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/lowsrc/4761238011/).
> 
> So many of these chapters have been Edan lavishing affection on Hermann that I wanted to find one which demonstrated that their relationship is actually pretty well-balanced and was overjoyed when these words finally showed up. Also, Edan's way of just rolling with Hermann's wings continues to floor me. I keep expecting _something_ to throw him off and he just never wobbles.


	84. Family Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan spend a Christmas in Geneva with most of the Gottlieb clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 December 2009  
> Geneva, Switzerland

\- Vera (in hat), Maria, & Elizaveta play dress up (29/04/18, Vladivostok) -

""Manny Manny Manny Manny!""

The mattress bounces.

""Hermann Hermann Hermann!""

More bouncing.

""Get up get up get up! It's—""

""Christmas~!""

He groans, opens his eyes. "Wha' time—" Yawns. "—is it?"

"Christmas!" declares Bastien.

Edan sparkles at him, already dressed and shaved.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," Hermann huffs and hauls himself to the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll go help Emma sort presents!" Bastien's off like a shot.

"Fourteen going on four, I swear," snickers Edan.

Hermann stretches his arms and his wings, grumbles, "Says the twenty-three-year-old who nearly shook me out of bed along with said four-year-old."

"Fair point. You're only as old as you feel, I guess, and he's **certainly** feeling better."

"The new environment seems to be doing wonders for him."

"Much as fair Britain has done for his brother."

"I'm not sure it's the scenery as much as the people." Smiles. "One in particular."

"Aw, you flatter me." Bounces on his toes. "Now, what can I help with so we can get to the presents soon-ish?"

Hermann rubs the back of his neck, grimaces. "Would you check these—" Points to his nape. "—please?"

Edan leans closer, runs his hand over Hermann's skin.

Hermann shivers at the pleasant touch.

"There's a new bud that'll be a problem unless you want to pull a turtleneck up to your ears."

"I'd rather not. A little help with it, please?"

"No problem." He digs in Hermann's suitcase, comes up with the tweezers and an alcohol wipe.

Hermann bows his head, takes and holds a deep breath—

""And a one ... two ... three~!""

A prick—

—exhales.

—followed by the cold sting of disinfectant.

Hermann wrinkles his nose. "I smell like a drunk."

""Having smelled a number of drunks in my long years, you actually have the whiff of a mild germophobe.""

"I **suppose** that's better."

"It's a very modern, very posh affliction to have." Edan offers an undershirt.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "I need the binder first."

"What?"

"Binder." Holds out a hand.

Edan blinks. "Why? It's your—"

"My grandparents—and Sabine—don't know."

"They don't ... you're **kidding**!"

Hermann pushes off the bed, leans into his suitcase, roots about. "Only my father, my siblings, and you are aware of my condition." Straightens with binder in hand.

"But how—" Edan waves his arms. " **Why?** "

"Because—" shuffles his wings, yanks the thing across his back, jerks the fastenings as tight as they'll go—

A wing squirms against the compression.

—buttons it down. "—because I'm a one-of-a-kind Frankenstein's monster. I'm certain someone would **love** to reverse engineer me, I'm certain. The fewer people know I exist as I do, the safer I am."

Edan runs his fingers through his hair. "Jesus. I'm ... I didn't ...." Squishes Hermann in a tight hug. "I didn't realize how much you trust me."

"I trust you with my life. Literally, Edan."

He takes a deep, shuddery breath. "You can, Hermann," he murmurs into Hermann's ear. "I'll give anything to keep you safe."

"Please don't make promises like that."

"It's true, though."

"Maybe, but it gives me a bad feeling to hear you say it."

"Alright. I won't say it, then." Edan smiles, steps away, offers the t-shirt.

Hermann takes it, tugs it over his head. "Jumper?"

"Jumper~!"

He pulls it on, smooths it down, sighs. "I'll just go in my pajamas."

Edan raises an eyebrow.

"My knee's too sore to change before a hot shower."

Edan blushes and rubs the side of his neck. "Uh, sorry about—"

"It was the train ride, not ... that."

"Oh. Alright." Looks up, eyes bright. "Sooooo, are we ready for presents?"

"I suppooooose." Hermann smiles anyway.

"Brilliant!" Bows Hermann toward the door. "After you."

Hermann takes up his cane, hunches his shoulders, heads for the front room and his family with Edan scuffing along behind.

Emma sits on Father's lap in an armchair, giggling and grabbing for his already very askew glasses while he fights to keep his face out of range.

Sabine and Dee giggle at the show from the floor near the tree and mountain of presents.

Oma and Opa, smiling, lounge side-by-side on the sofa.

Bastien, if the socked feet and rustling are any indication, is **under** the Christmas tree.

"Good morning, boys," greets Dee.

"Good morning," echoes Hermann, perching on a padded chair.

"'morning~!" sings Edan, folding to the rug between Hermann's feet.

A number of expressions—not all of them positive—flit across the three eldest Gottliebs' faces.

Bastien appears with a huge box in his arms, declares, "Emma goes first!", and drops the box in front of her.

"Careful you don't lose her in there," teases Edan.

Father scowls, mutters, „I have no intention of losing my granddaughter and can certainly handle a small child.“

Dietrich, Sabine, and Oma all fix him with Looks.

Bastien sighs, "He said he's not going to drop her and can handle a kid."

Edan grins. "They're **awfully** squirmy at that age, though. Best be extra careful."

Hermann jabs his hip with a foot.

„Just what would **your** kind know about children?“

Dietrich holds Sabine back with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Bastien translates through gritted teeth.

"I help babysit my little cousins when I'm in town."

Emma squeals, lunges for a curl of ribbon, nearly breaks loose from Father's hold.

Sabine and Bastien snort.

Father shifts his hands and Emma paws at the ribbon until Bastien scoots over to help her rip into the wrapping.

Together, they have the rocking dinosaur freed in short order, much to Emma's shrieky delight.

The rest of her presents receive similar greetings, then she yawns hugely, so Sabine gathers her and a couple of her new stuffies and carries her to her room for a nap.

Hermann nudges Edan. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I'll pass this morning, thanks, _leannan_." He shuffles out of Hermann's way, nose deep in the book of classic star lore Bastien found for him.

Hermann pushes to his feet, hobbles to the kitchen, and fills a cup from the pot next to the stove.

„Hermann, sweetheart,“ says Oma, „may we have a moment?“

„Of course.“ Hermann sets the carafe on the counter, attends.

Oma sits at kitchen table, Opa beside her.

Hermann shuffles over, settles in, braces for it.

„We were wondering ....“ She traces a flower on the tablecloth. „That is, we'd like to know ....“

Opa comes to her rescue. „We would like to pry a bit and ask what is going on between you and your English friend.“

Hermann maintains a level gaze and a neutral expression. „Edan is my boyfriend.“ Smiles faintly. „He's also Scottish, not English.“

Oma traces.

„Is this an experimental phase or are you ...?“

„Gay?“

„Yes.“

Hermann takes a sip of coffee. „I'm attracted to both men and woman: I'm bisexual. It happens I've fallen in love with a man.“

Opa inhales sharply.

Oma sighs.

Hermann drinks, swallowing an urge to justify himself with his coffee.

„Is he good to you?“ ventures Oma.

„Very. He understands my issues and loves me as I am.“

„That's wonderful, dear.“ Oma laces her fingers with Opa's, gives them a little squeeze. „He seems a lovely young man. We're happy for you.“

„Thank you. Your approval means a lot to me.“

„We want you to be happy, Hermann.“

„Thank you.“

"Excuse me," says a pale Edan, striding in, "I'd like to borrow your grandson a moment, if it's not a bother."

Oma smiles, shoos them both.

"Thanks~!" Edan gathers Hermann's hand, tugs him from the chair, to their guest room—

"What's going on?"

—through the door, closes it behind—

"Edan, what's—"

—hugs Hermann tight to his chest.

"What the bloody heck's happening?"

Edan takes a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

Hermann chills. "What—"

"I'm so sorry you had to grow up with that royal asshat for a father and spend all those years alone in a house with him."

"What did he say to you?" snarls Hermann.

"Well, first he said that—and I quote—'homosexuals are a blight on humanity' and that we deserve everything thrown our way."

Hermann sighs.

"Heard that before."

"More times than I care to count."

"Like my birth mum's family."

"I'm sorry. That's—"

"No big deal, 'coz my **real** family stopped talking to them **years** ago over it."

"I suppose that's for the best."

"It **definitely** is." A deep breath. "Back to the hellbeast in the front room, he tried to run me off by knocking on you next. When that didn't work, he tried to **bribe** me. With **cash**."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

" **Then** , he tried threats." Scoffs, "Even said someone might kill me for getting too close to you."

Hermann swallows. "Edan ... he's not ...." Swallows again. "I wish he was exaggerating, but **someone** paid to have me made—"

"And you're worth an absolute **mint**."

"—and who **knows** what they will do to protect their investment, especially when they've already proved willing to muck with human genes."

"So I won't say anything." Shrugs. "I'm no threat to anyone."

"I hope they feel the same way."

"They **clearly** do, seeing as I'm still here, yea? They've had four years to deal with me and they haven't done a thing." Pulls away a bit, kisses Hermann's forehead. "Pretty sure I'm in the clear."

Hermann relaxes a tad, huffs through a smile, "Must you insist on being right?"

" **Always.** Except when I'm wrong."

"You're hopeless."

"And you love me."

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Philip Howard](https://www.flickr.com/photos/22326055@N06/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/22326055@N06/14804411749/).
> 
> MoiraColleen wanted to see how Hermann's grandparents would react to Edan, so ... they do. And Lars, too, for a bonus.


	85. Simpler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann settles on his doctoral research project and Edan helps him get started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 February 2010  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- Olivia, ready for the Con (17 Jun 2023) — _Hasi_ -

Warm, soft weight settles on Hermann's crown and gentle arms drape around his neck.

""What're you working on?"" says Edan.

Hermann smacks him with a wing—

Edan squawks; his chin and arms retreat.

—grumps, "My research and it's not going well."

Edan perches on the edge of the desk. "You finally settled on a project?"

"For better or worse." Sighs. "It's PAIGE."

"Ooo! The agent! That's so cool!"

"If she'd **work**." Stabs in the next line of code. "I've been at this for **six** **weeks** and she **still** can't handle even the **simplest** task I give her. I'm **so** behind schedule."

"Maybe she needs something even **simpler** to do then. Build her confidence a bit."

"She's **software** , not a **child**."

"But she's supposed to **learn** a bit like a kid, yea?"

Hermann concedes with a grunt and more keystrokes.

"So, she already does basic calendar stuff? Birthdays, appointments, and such like?"

Hermann blinks at his screen.

Edan swings his feet, smugging.

"I need a moment."

"I'll put the kettle on." He hops off the desk, ruffles Hermann's hair—

Hermann squawks, flicks a wing.

—dodges, and bounces over to the hotplate.

Hermann types.

Edan hums ("Love You More").

The kettle bubbles.

Hermann takes a deep breath, sets the compiler running.

Edan shuffles back with a mug of steeping tea in each hand, offers one.

"Thanks."

The laptop _chirp_ s.

"Here goes nothing."

"Fingers crossed."

Hermann opens PAIGE.

 **PAIGE:** Hello! How may I help you, sir?

 **hermann_g:** Hello, Paige.

 **hermann_g:** Please ingest

"'Ingest'?"

"It's accurate."

"It's also creepy."

Hermann sniffs.

 **hermann_g:** Please ingest file "Contacts", column "Birthday".

 **PAIGE:** Yes, sir.

 **PAIGE:** Data acquired.

 **hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

 **hermann_g:** Please tell me whose birthday is nearest in the future.

 **PAIGE:** Bastien Gottlieb's birthday is 1 April, 40 days from today.

"She did it! She got the right answer!" Waves hands in victory. "Good job, you two!"

Hermann ducks his head.

 **hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

 **hermann_g:** Good job.

 **PAIGE:** Unrecognized phrase:Good job.

 **PAIGE:** Please define, sir.

"She knows to ask questions?"

"One of her subroutines prompts her to ask for definitions of words or phrases she hasn't encountered before."

"Sweet."

 **hermann_g:** "Good job." means you have completed a task in a way that exceeds expectations.

 **PAIGE:** I see.

"That means she's added the phrase to her dictionary."

"That's brilliant."

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

 **hermann_g:** Please place a reminder of Bastien Gottlieb's birthday on my personal calendar.

 **PAIGE:** Reminder created.

 **hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

Hermann checks the calendar on his mobile, finds the note right where it should be, shows Edan the screen.

"Lookit her go!"

"You were right. She just needed a simpler task to start with."

"Glad to help." Edan glances at the laptop.

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

"Is there a reason she waits for you to thank her?"

"'Thank you, Paige' tells her to close out a request and prepare to take the next. 'Please' at the beginning of a line tells her it contains a request."

"Efficient **and** polite." Grins over his mug. "Like dad, like daughter."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

 **hermann_g:** Nothing further, Paige.

 **hermann_g:** Please shut yourself down.

 **PAIGE:** Shutting down.

The window winks closed.

"She works!" cheers Edan.

"She's **started** working." Hermann runs a hand through his hair, shuffles his wings. "There's a lot more to do."

"And all **sorts** of time to do it." Edan edges closer, his foot coming to rest against Hermann's calf.

"All sorts of time **if** I'm not distracted."

"You can spare a half-hour to celebrate, can't you?"

Hermann leans back, smirks. "I suppose I can."

Edan beams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Stefan Schubert](https://www.flickr.com/photos/baltasar89/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/baltasar89/14384087919/).
> 
> Was batting ideas around and realized the Jaeger AI would be a hell of an ambitious first step into AI programming, even for J-Tech's resident genius, thus, PAIGE (Prototype Autonomous Information Gathering Entity)! 
> 
> The song Edan's humming is the Buzzcocks' "[Love You More](https://youtu.be/QUKs-rIbGYI)".


	86. Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under Hermann's guidance, PAIGE continues to learn, much to Edan's delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 April 2010  
> Mile End, London, England, United Kingdom

\- 「Coral, Churaumi Aquarium, Okinawa (23 July 2013) — Seti」 -

Edan flops down on his bed next to Hermann, tucks up against his side.

Hermann sighs contently over his laptop.

"Is that baby Paige?"

"Yes, though I wish you'd stop calling her that."

Edan rolls his eyes. "No poetry in your soul."

Hermann scoffs, keys more code.

"How's she doing? Growing like a weed?"

Hermann snorts. "Let's see what you think." Launches the program.

**PAIGE:** Hello! How may I help you, sir?

**hermann_g:** Hello, Paige.

**hermann_g:** Please tell me whose birthday is nearest in the future.

**PAIGE:** Edan Reid's birthday is 3 May, 31 days from today.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** You're welcome, sir.

"Hey! She's one up on Data!"

Hermann twists around, eyebrow quirked.

"The android on _Star Trek_?"

"Oh. Him." Frowns. "What does he have to do with PAIGE?"

"She uses contractions; he can't." Edan beams.

"She uses that contraction because I explicitly programmed her to do so."

"My point stands." He crosses his arms.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

**PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

**hermann_g:** Please suggest a birthday gift Edan might enjoy.

**PAIGE:** Extrapolating from the content of Mr Reid's latest texts and emails to you, he

"Oo! She knows how to connect bits of names **and** pronouns."

"That took most of the last fortnight."

"Totally brilliant, though."

Hermann grunts.

"Hold on a minute. She reads my emails and texts?"

"As I'm continually reminding you, 'she's **software** and isn't going to sell anything to the _Daily Mail_." Cocks an eyebrow. "Or criticize how atrocious your grammar gets when you're excited."

"Well, excuuuuuuse me for having enthusiasm for my favourite topics."

**PAIGE:** Extrapolating from the content of Mr Reid's latest texts and emails to you, he may enjoy a copy of Underwater Moonlight to replace the one which has gone missing from his rooms.

**PAIGE:** The best price advertised online comes from Amazon.co.uk.

**PAIGE:** Shall I place an order for you, sir?

"Initiative?"

"Predictive algorithm. 'Gift' leads to 'price search' leads to 'purchase'."

"She figure that out on her own?"

"I did quite a bit of metaphorical hand-holding."

"Still awesome." Pecks Hermann's cheek. "A very good gift choice, too. You've taught her well."

Hermann smiles.

**hermann_g:** Please do, Paige.

**PAIGE:** Order placed.

**PAIGE:** You should receive

Across the room, Hermann's mobile _ping_ s.

**PAIGE:** You should receive a confirmation in your email shortly, sir.

**hermann_g** : Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE** : What shall I do next, sir?

**hermann_g** : Nothing further, Paige.

**hermann_g:** Please shut yourself down.

**PAIGE:** Goodnight, sir.

**PAIGE:** Shutting down.

The window winks closed.

Hermann blinks a few times, swallows hard.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, mate. What's going on?"

"I didn't ... I didn't program her to say 'goodbye' **or** to recognize proper sign-offs by time of day."

"So ... she taught herself that?"

"I can't think of another explanation."

"That's. So. **Cool.** "

"I don't ...."

"You did it!" Throws his arms around Hermann's middle, squeezes. "You did it!"

Hermann ....

"In under **three** fucking **months** you wrote a program that can teach itself manners—"

"Which you haven't learned in almost twenty-four years—"

"—stuff it, I'm waxing rhapsodic—"

"For someone raised by wolves, maybe."

"—here." Edan clears his throat. " **And** it can extrapolate **perfect** birthday gifts." Flutter-kicks the mattress. "My boyfriend **is** the smartest boyfriend!"

Hermann hugs Edan's head, wraps a wing around his back, and giggles like a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Carolyn Sugg](https://www.flickr.com/photos/grace-and-peace/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/grace-and-peace/3716936927/).
> 
> Nothing much to say about this lump of fluff, except the CD Edan seems to have misplaced is [_Underwater Moonlight_ by The Soft Boys](https://youtu.be/8KdH-DAI-aw). It's one of the least noisy things in his collection.


	87. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann surprises Edan on his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 May 2010  
> Mile End, London, England, United Kingdom

\- no personal space (15/08/20, LA) -

Edan yawns down the path after teaching his intro astrophysics section, thinking of nothing but his nice, soft—person?!

""Where the hell've you been?"" demands the head of chestnut hair pressed against his neck.

"Hermann?"

A grunt and he's hugged tighter.

"The hell're you doing here? It's a Monday!"

""It's your **birthday**. You think I'd leave you alone on this most important of days?""

Edan nuzzles his temple. "Thanks, _leannan_."

""Happy birthday, _leannan_.""

They rest like that a bit, soaking in each other.

"You been waiting long?"

""Not really."" Hermann peels himself off. "What kept you?"

"It's nice out, so I took a longer path back." Shrugs. "'s a bad habit."

"It's a lovely habit—" Shivers.

"When you're not waiting outside for me. C'mon." Wraps an arm around Hermann's shoulders, steers him—

"Hold on." He nabs a satchel and a cardboard carrier box of some sort.

"What's that then?"

"You'll see."

"A man of mystery."

Hermann laughs and Edan lets them into the building, leads them to his room and in.

"How long can you stay?" asks Edan as he locks up.

"Only until morning, so we need to make it count." Hermann sets his baggage on the desk, leans against it.

Edan slouches next to him, sighs, "I can't wait 'til we can live in the same city." Ruffles his hair. "I should've worked harder, scored high enough for Oxford ...."

Hermann kicks his foot. "This is a first-rate program, Edan."

"I know that, but ... I'm getting tired of **distance**. I want us **together** -together, yea?" Sags a bit further. "Honestly, I'm afraid you'll find someone better: smarter, more like—"

Hermann drapes himself against Edan, kisses him thoroughly. "There's **no** **one** better for me. You need to get that through your thick Scottish skull."

Edan's heart does little flip. "You truly mean that?"

"Cross my heart." Hermann puts a bit more distance between them, digs in his bag, comes up with and offers a small, flat package. "We should get on with the birthday celebration so we can get to that 'together' you want."

Edan accepts the gift with a smile (even if it does feel slightly shaky) and "I bet I know what this is~!"

Hermann grins. "It's from Paige and I."

The paper tears easily and _Underwater Moonlight_ on CD beams up at him.

He gives Hermann a high hug. "Thank you both."

"Now, the crowning glory." Hermann proffers the cardboard.

"This likely to bite me?"

Hermann shrugs.

Edan frowns, opens the cardboard flaps, peers into the box.

Beady glass eyes peer back.

He scruffs the stuffed thing and quirks an eyebrow at Hermann. "A wolf?"

"I thought a fellow canid would make you feel more at home." Smirks. "Take you back to your childhood in a way."

Edan snuggles the plushie to his chest, kisses its little fluffy head. "I love her."

"I figure she—"

"Her name's Lupe."

Hermann rolls his eyes. " **Lupe** can keep—what's the name of the concrete block again?"

" **Mandy**. How **dare** you forget her!" He tucks Lupe under his arm, pats Mandy's onesie-swaddled self where she rests on his desk. "He doesn't mean anything by it, sweetheart." Glowers at Hermann, still stroking. "He's just absolute **rubbish** with girls."

"Says the gay man to the bisexual." Hermann drops himself the armchair. "You've dressed the rock."

"I couldn't have her flashing her pebbles about, could I?"

Hermann face-palms.

Edan beams, straddles the swivel chair. "'sides, this **particular** outfit is a certain little rabbit's birthday gift to me truly."

Hermann peeps out.

"It seems Bastien is taking a sewing course and li'l Mandy is the beneficiary of his efforts."

"Why does he tell you this and not me?"

"Maybe he's sewing you something for **your** birthday, but I doubt it'll be cute as—" Hefts Mandy. "—this!"

"O dear God. What **is** that?"

"It's a dande- **lion**! See the cute little eyes and nose?"

"I ... I don't know what to say ...."

"'You look adorable, Mandy'? Maybe?" Gently sets Mandy back in her place.

"Bonkers. You're completely bonkers." Frowns. "You also seem to have infected my little brother with it."

"Hey! I had **nothin'** to do with this!"

Hermann blinks a few times, then realization hits. "He's trying to sew for **Emma** and's giving Mandy the failures."

"She's **much** more forgiving than the Swiss miss when it comes to slight imperfections."

"Mandy **would** seem the type more likely to suffer indignity in silence than Emma."

"That doesn't mean she **should** suffer."

"Of course not. Far be it for me to even **imply** she should."

"Good." Edan perks up. "We should take pictures of Mandy and Lupe and send 'em to your dad!"

"What? Why?"

"He should see his other granddaughters!"

"Bonkers. Completely mad."

"And you **love** it. I keep your life lively."

"That you certainly do." Hermann leans back, sprawling. "Now, do you want to get started on that 'together' or would you rather cuddle with your new daughter?"

Edan smiles, heart picking up speed, and settles Lupe next to Mandy. "What do you think?"

Hermann smirks. "I think I need to think about it."

"No, you don't, Hermann." Edan stands, pulls Hermann to his feet. "Turn that big brain off a moment and celebrate properly with me."

"Only if you do the same."

Edan laughs. "Let's get together, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Joachim S. Müller](https://www.flickr.com/photos/joachim_s_mueller/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/joachim_s_mueller/9031712438/).
> 
> I seem incapable of writing anything but fluff these days, though I must share the blame this time around with MoiraColleen and their inspirational comments about adopting Mandy as a daughter. 
> 
> I never expected Edan to develop confidence issues, but, considering how long it took to work up the nerve to talk to Hermann, it's not like they came out of the blue ....


	88. Glasgow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann visits Glasgow and meets Edan's family for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 June 2010  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1953.jpg [Housewarming gift, Hong Kong, China; recovered by 007] -

The bells over the cornershop door _clang_ as Hermann follows Edan inside, jerking his wheelie suitcase over the threshold.

"Hello~!" sings the clerk, smiling—expression slides off. "Oh. It's you."

Edan drops his duffel, throws out his arms as he strolls to the counter. "Ah! Nothing like a warm welcome from my beloved sister!"

Fenella scoffs, crosses her arms. "You're late."

"And you're still on shift, Fen-fen."

"Like that's an excuse."

Edan rolls his eyes. "Aaaaaanyway, Hermann, this is my lovely sister, Fenella. Fen-fen, Hermann."

Hermann bows deeply, greets, "Ms Reid."

Fenella inclines her head. "You can call me 'Fenella' as long as you treat him—" Points her chin at Edan. "—properly."

"You have my word I will."

She leans back against a display of throwaway mobiles. "I like this one already. He has **manners**."

"As if you would recognize good manners if they bit you."

"Get bent, Danny-boy."

Edan turns to Hermann, eyes sparkling. "You feel the love between us, don't you, Hermann?"

"It's positively saccharine in here."

Fenella sniffs.

"Sooo ... how long 'til you get off?"

She flicks her eyes to the clock next to the register, sighs, "Another forty minutes, but you hang about that long and Mum and Dad'll go bonkers."

"Can't have that."

"Yea, they might haul off and hug ye to death."

Edan runs his fingers through his hair. "Is Trinity still about with her car?"

"The Dragon breathed its last a month ago. You'll have to hoof it or call a taxi."

"I could use a bit of a stroll after so long cooped up," offers Hermann.

"Strolling it is!" Edan gathers his duffel. "See you at the homestead, Fen-fen."

Fenella grunts, shoos him toward the door. "Good to meet you, Hermann."

"The same, Fenella." He nudges his suitcase to rolling position and trails a waving Edan to the pavement.

Edan leads them along the street, the afternoon sun on their faces.

"It's a beautiful day for a walk," Hermann murmurs.

Edan hums, basking, content.

"You miss this city."

"It's still home, yea? My family's here, my roots are here." Encompasses the area with a wave. "I feel like I **belong** here, more than any other place I've been." Slows his steps, turns to Hermann. "I know Germany doesn't feel like that for you, but is there a place that does?"

"Manchester did for a bit, the last few days. Oxford is ... comfortable, but I still feel like an outsider." Shrugs. "The only place I feel totally at home is with you."

Edan glows in response. "I'm glad of that. Hopefully we can find a place that works nearly as well."

"Maybe it'll be here."

"Maybe. There's bound an opening at one of the universities by the time we're pee-haitch-done."

Hermann face-palms. "Did you really just say that?"

"I did." Edan grins. "I'd been saving it for a special day."

"You're unbelievable."

"Believe it, belo—"

"We agreed—"

"— _leannan_. Left, here." Edan huffs as they turn into a narrower lane. "It's twenty-bloody-ten: we can be out. In **fact** , we can set up a legal domestic partnership whenever we want."

"It's not—" Hermann makes a frustrated noise. "It's about our privacy, not our legal standing or safety. I don't want who we sleep with overshadowing what we do."

"I'm **all** for not sharing **those** tales—"

"What we do while we're **awake**!"

"Have you taken to sleep—"

" **No!** For Christ's sake—"

Edan gestures for calm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't wind you up like that."

"No, you shouldn't. You're forgiven, as well."

"Brilliant. Just in time, too. This is the place." He skips up a little path to the door of a terraced house.

Hermann's heart stutters and he picks at flecks of lint on his jumper.

"You look **fine** ," sighs Edan.

"I want to look my best," Hermann grumbles.

"You're **already** the finest-looking man in Scotland. What do you want to do, blind us?"

Hermann blushes, ducks his head, plucks at another spot.

"They **already** love you. You don't need to impress—what're you doing?"

Hermann finishes tweaking Edan's collar. "Better."

"Fer fu—"

"You're—"

Hermann jumps.

"—here!" booms a voice from the door.

"Hey, Dad!" squeaks Edan, who's almost disappeared into the arms of an **enormous** man.

""Is that them?"" hollers someone deeper inside the house.

"Yes, Dona! Get inside, you two!" Mr Reid more or less **heaves** Edan into the foyer. "We've been waiting **ages** for ye!" He focuses on Hermann, grinning brightly. "You must be Hermann. Tor Reid, overjoyed to meet you at last." He offers a hand the size of a salad plate.

"It's wonderful to meet you, as well." Hermann steels himself, takes the hand.

Mr Reid's grip is surprisingly light, almost gentle.

"Step along, lose the shoes on the rug; there's slippers for you, if you like. I'll take that." Grabs Hermann's bag from the step and heads inside.

Hermann takes a deep breath and follows it.

"We've put you in with Edan—figured that would be alright—"

"That will—"

"—and I'm sorry, but all our bedrooms are upstairs, but if—"

"That's just fine, Mr Reid." Hermann works on his shoes.

"'Tor', please, son. We're not much on manners here."

Hermann coughs over a laugh, tucks his feet into the waiting slippers, which are even the right size.

"We're eating at seven, but if you're hungry sooner, Edan will find you something to munch on in the kitchen."

"Thank you."

"The boy should be right through that door there—" Points. "—and we're counting on you to keep him from getting his ass handed to him at Scrabble after dinner."

"I'll certainly do my best."

"That's all we ask, son. Be back in a moment!" And he's off and up the stairs.

Hermann shakes his head, then shuffles on to join Edan in the front room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Marina G](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tjukka2/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/tjukka2/14088101162/).
> 
> This one was so much fun to write oh my god. Fenella and her attitude, Tor and his perky chatter, Edan and his long-suffering love of them both ... and Hermann's puzzlement at it all.


	89. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first full day in Glasgow has Hermann learning some Reid family secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 June 2010  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1522.jpg [Hilariously inedible groceries, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan keeps close watch as Hermann wobbles down the narrow stairs from the bedrooms with an equally tight grip on his cane and the handrail.

"I can manage—"

"You're not getting hurt under my roof."

"I can manage stairs," Hermann huffs. He steps onto the landing, blessedly stable. "See?"

Edan fluffs his hair. "Sorry. I ... I worry, ye know?"

Hermann moves close, kisses his cheek. "I know you do, but I can still take care of myself."

"I know, I know ...."

Hermann once-overs him. "Why have you been so edgy lately?"

"I'm edgy?"

"This is the most nervous I've seen you since you you went down to London to interview for your program."

"I ...." Deep breath. "I want everything to be perfect while you're here."

Hermann cups Edan's chin. "It **is** perfect. We're together, yea?"

""Do I hear boys~?""

"Yes, Mum!"

""If you're awake, why are you still out there instead of in here eating breakfast?""

Edan gazes heavenward, sighs.

Hermann nudges him toward the kitchen.

They slide in side-by-side at the table.

Mum bustles over with two positively **heaping** plates, sets one in front of each of them.

"Thank you," they chorus.

"Be sure you eat it all, Edan. You're getting too thin on that crap London food."

"Mum, you **know** I don't gain weight, no matter **what** I eat and Hermann's the same way."

She huffs, "I'm obviously **still** not feeding you right, then. I'll just need to try even harder." Her top half vanishes into the fridge.

Hermann chuckles.

Edan rolls his eyes. "Mum ...."

""Hush up and eat, both of you.""

Edan looks to Hermann.

He shrugs, digs in.

So Edan does, too, and manages to tuck most of it away.

Hermann, not so much.

Mum returns to collect their dishes, asks Hermann, "What can I do to make it better, sweetheart?"

"Nothing, Mrs Reid. It was delicious; I just don't have the greatest appetite." Hermann bows his head, scratches at the edge of his binder.

"That's alright, dear. I'll just make sure to make your favourites so you can have a proper feed while you're here."

"Uh, thank you, but that's not—"

"It's not a bother! I love trying new dishes!"

"Don't encourage her," warns Edan.

"Quiet, you!"

"Seriously, Hermann. She cooks the weirdest things."

"Such as?"

"Seal meat." Shudders. "Nasty, greasy, fishy stuff. Can still sorta taste it."

Hermann wrinkles his nose. "Why—"

"High protein, high-fat, high calorie, 'gain weight damn you boy' food, supposedly." Mum musses Edan's hair. "It **clearly** didn't work as advertised. My boy's **still** a right twig." To Hermann, "He inherited some unfortunately skinny genes."

Hermann blinks.

"My, uh, birth mum's a slip of a thing. Five-nothing, forty-five kilos soaking wet in work boots."

Hermann blinks some more. "She and your father must've made quite the picture."

Mum snickers. "They were fully **half** the gossip in the neighbourhood when they were on and the rows are **legendary**." Shakes her head. "That woman won't back down from anything, even Tor and his three brothers."

"So, **that's** where Edan gets it."

Edan flushes.

Mum laughs.

"Honestly, though, I can't picture your father yelling."

"He's mellowed a lot since they were together."

"Annie did most of the yelling," amends Mum.

"Dad was always gone and she couldn't handle both of us on her own. She wanted him to come home and for us to be a family."

"How do you—"

"Fen-fen remembers it, Mum." Edan offers a weak smile. "Then Annie fell in love with Andrew the **Musician** and took off for good."

"How any woman can just run off and **leave** her children, I'll—"

" **Mum.** Don't."

She huffs, wipes her hands on her jeans, asks, "Do you boys have plans for the day?"

"Well, I was thinking of showing Hermann around the neighbourhood—"

"You can do the shopping while you're out!"

"Mum—"

"We'd love to, Mrs Reid," says Hermann.

"Perfect! Let me get the list!" She hustles off.

Edan raises his eyebrow at Hermann.

He shrugs. "I've never seen what shopping is like for a family and I'm curious."

The eyebrow climbs higher. "How did you get food?"

"Father's housekeepers did the shopping."

"House—" Edan blinks rapidly, squeaks, "You had **servants**?"

"Not really?" Shrugs again. "They did the marketing, cooking, and cleaning. My father worked long hours and was a single parent of four."

"I guess ... I guess that's not too different from the neighbourhood ladies helping us along when Dad was offshore."

"It probably isn't." Hermann smiles up through his eyelashes. "We're not so different: being twiggy because of our X chromosomes, being stargazers, being too smart for our own good—"

Edan laughs.

"There's the right mindset for market!" Mum presses a slip of paper into his hand. "You can get everything but the cigarettes at Trinity's; those should come from Fenella's shop."

"You really should stop smoking, Mum. Those things'll kill you someday."

"Well, **something** has to kill me, so it might as well be something I enjoy, yea?"

Edan rolls his eyes, pushes to his feet.

Hermann follows suit.

"Be back by lunch, boys."

"Yes, Mum," sighs Edan.

Hermann snickers and off they go.

Down the block, around a corner, two more blocks, and through the door to the neighbourhood's biggest grocery.

"What's first on the list?" asks Hermann.

Edan squints at Mum's scratching. "I **think** this says—"

""There you are!""

Edan and Hermann jump.

Trinity skids into the aisle, glomps Edan, kisses both his cheeks. "I was **wondering** when you'd show up!"

"I'd **never** miss a visit with you when I'm in town!"

Trinity separates, drags her eyes over Hermann. "This must be the most-amazing Hermann, who's **so** amazing he's stolen you away from us."

Hermann ducks his head, blushing.

Trinity bows. "I'm Trinity Moss, Fennie's understudy as Reid-wrangler."

"Hey! I don't need wrangling!"

"Yes, you do," says Trinity.

"Yes, you do," agrees Hermann.

Edan pouts.

"I take it you've been able to handle him?" she asks.

"He hasn't gotten into trouble lately and he seems happy."

"How's your sex life?"

Edan chokes; Hermann turns **bright** pink.

"That's the 'very satisfactory' pink, yea?"

Hermann clears his throat. "Yes, it is."

"Have you figured out that thing he likes—"

" **TRINI!** "

"Do you mean the—"

" **HERMANN!** " he squeals.

"Figures," huffs Trinity, rolling her eyes. " **Try** to share information to **help** him and he flips the fuck out."

Hermann nods.

"We're in **public**! And you're talking about our—" Claps both hands over his mouth, face gone flaming hot.

Trinity doubles over; Hermann bites his lip, eyes watering.

"I'm not sure which of you I like less right now," grumbles Edan.

Trinity mostly straightens. "You love **both** of us still, don't kid. It takes more than a spot of loud public embarrassment to truly piss you off."

Edan sniffs.

"Hermann, do you mind if I borrow this one for a moment?"

"As long as you promise to give him back," he grins.

"Five minutes and he's all yours again."

Hermann inclines his head—"I'll be over by the reading material."—and limps off.

Edan watches him go with a little ache in his chest, drags his attention back to Trinity. "What's up?"

"Kris came around asking about you **again** yesterday."

His heart drops. "Oh."

"Yea. 'Oh'. What do you want me to tell him?"

"What do you think I should say?"

"Honestly? I've got no clue." Trinity shifts her feet. "Should I send him to Fennie, maybe?"

"Sure, that'll only get him maimed by his dad instead of killed."

Trinity throws up her hands. "How 'bout I just shove the old bastard in front of a train? That'll solve a **lot** of problems."

Edan sighs a laugh, runs a hand through his hair. "Wish it was that ea—" Grins, ear to ear. "It **is** that easy."

"Wha?" Trinity crosses her arms. "You want me to **kill** —"

He waves her off. "If Kris comes 'round again, give him my London address and—" Digs in a pocket, comes up with a handful of pound coins, offers them. "—a buncha stamps. Tell him to write notes and I'll send the replies to you to pass to him so he doesn't get caught with 'em at home."

Trinity accepts, but, "That's ... **archaic**."

Edan beams. "It worked for me and Hermann until he was old enough to tell his dad to fuck off, so it should work for Kris, too."

"Alllllright. I'll see what he thinks of that."

"Thanks, Trini." Edan hugs her tight. "You're awesome."

"'course I am. Now get back to your boyfriend and make sure I'm at the top of your guest—"

Edan hisses, flaps.

Trinity rolls her eyes. "Just do it, yea?"

Edan salutes—"Will do! See you 'round!"—and saunters to where Hermann frowns at the newspapers on display. "Sorry about that."

Hermann gestures, 'no bother', doesn't **quite** meet Edan's eyes. "May I—" Clears his throat. "May I ask what that was about?"

"Long or short?"

"Let's start with short, if you're willing."

"Okay. Short version." Edan takes a deep breath. "I've got a younger half-brother and—"

"Excuse me, you have **what**?"

"A half-brother, about Bunny's age. I, uh, didn't mention him before because I try not to think about him."

"You **what**." Hermann's up to a full-strength glare now.

Edan cringes. "It's—it's a long story."

"Then tell. It." Looms as best he can. "Now."

"Umm ... coffee shop? Around the corner?"

"Fine." Hermann stomps off.

Edan takes a deep breath, slinks—

Trinity grabs his arm, hisses, "Five fucking **years** and you didn't tell him?!"

"I didn't want him getting curious and tempting me to visit!"

Trinity puts her hands on her hips and looms— **really** looms. "Edan William Reid, you are a complete and utter **dumbass**!"

"I knooooow!" he wails. Hangs his head. "I totally fucked up."

"Yea, you did." Trinity shoves him toward the door. "So go apologize to him and talk it out. You'll do fine."

"Thanks, Trini."

"Get going, Beaker."

"I **hate** it when you call me that."

Trinity laughs as the door chime sounds behind him.

Edan shtumps to the coffee shop and over to the corner table Hermann's commandeered.

A pot of tea and a second cup wait for him.

He sits, presses his hands flat on the tabletop.

Hermann sets his steaming mug aside, assesses him.

Edan slumps. "I'm sorry, Hermann. I completely, totally, utterly messed up on this one. I should've told you about Kris right away. I didn't trust me and I didn't trust you and that was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Kris is your brother?"

"Yea."

Hermann pours tea into Edan's mug, nudges it closer.

"Thanks." Edan wraps his hands around the cup. "Alright. So. Kris is my brother—we have the same biological mum— **but** his parents have banned him from meeting, **seeing** , whatever, me and Fen-fen 'coz they think we're bad influences or something."

"This is about your sexuality."

"Among other things."

Hermann raises an eyebrow.

"Fen-fen's history's a mite colourful?"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Because you've met her?"

"That would be it."

"Sooooo ... me and Fen-fen—and Mum and Dad, too—have done our best to steer clear of him so he doesn't have trouble with his parents. And, for me, that means trying not to think about him so I don't get too curious and try to sneak over to meet him. Which's why I didn't tell you."

"Ah."

"I'm **really** sorry."

"I understand now and forgive you."

"Thanks, _leannan_." Edan's shoulders drop tension. "Until two weeks ago, it wasn't too much of a problem since they all live a couple of towns over."

"What changed?"

"He decided to—without telling **anyone** —come looking for us."

"Oh dear."

Edan snorts. "Lucky for everyone, I guess, he only found Trinity and she put him back on the train home before his parents noticed he was gone."

"Why did he approach Trinity?"

"Oh, uh, she apparently came up in one of his dad's rants and Kris figured 'how many skyscraper blondes with whacking great tattoos can there be in that part of town?' and kept his eyes open for her."

"Solid logic there."

"Yep, certainly is." Takes a sip of tea. "She pulled me over to say he'd done it again yesterday and ask what she should do about him."

"What did you tell her?"

"I gave her some money for stamps and instructions to tell the kid to send me letters in London and to pick up replies from her." Shrugs. "I figure if it worked for me and you, it should work for me and him."

Hermann smiles over his mug. "Solid logic there."

Edan grins back. "Yep, certainly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Tomek Augustyn](https://www.flickr.com/photos/og2t/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/og2t/3739890921/).
> 
> This chapter, people, this chapter. I'm so afraid it's all chat, no action, and completely _boring_. Even the mighty Trinity Moss, I'm afraid, can't make this interesting. Blerg. The next one's better, I promise.


	90. Of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edan confides some of his fears to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 June 2010  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- Anchorage, December 2017 — Raleigh B. -

Once Hermann's settled in the bedroom with his laptop and a Skype connection to Bunny, Edan sneaks down the stairs and into the front room.

Dad sits in his favourite chair, feet up on the ottoman, watching what's probably last week's sport highlights on TV.

Edan perches on the edge of the sofa, forces his shoulders down from around his ears, and squeaks, "Dad?"

The TV goes mute and he looks over. "Boy?"

"I—" Edan swallows. "I'm worried I'm about to do something really stupid."

"Which's different from u—"

"Dad, please ...."

A beat of silence.

"What're you thinking, Edan?"

He digs in a pocket and holds up the thing, but keeps his eyes on the floor.

"Ah. That explains it." Dad shifts. "You've been exclusive with him longer than I was with Dona before our wedding, you know."

"We haven't even lived in the same city yet."

"Look at me, son."

Edan drags his eyes up.

"He's just as gone for you as you are him. You're doing the right thing."

"Even if his dad doesn't—"

"His dad can go drown." Grins. "I'll **more** than make up for him."

"Thanks."

Another quiet moment stretches.

"If you're not sure, you can wait, Edan. You have all the time in the world."

Edan rests a hand on his nape. "I don't want to lose him. I worry all the time he's just going to fly away and leave me behind."

Dad's voice is gentle. "He won't. He's a wee thing, but nothing short of a comet'll shift him, I can tell." Reaches out, squeezes Edan's knee. "A lot like you, actually."

Edan smiles at the floor.

"You're two of a kind."

Edan shakes his head. "Nah, but **he's** one of a kind."

"So are you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Adam Lehman](https://www.flickr.com/photos/14519665@N05/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/14519665@N05/5134755984/).
> 
> This little scene pleases me greatly. Tor and Edan are among the easiest of my OCs to write and letting them play off each other is such a joy. They're _so_ different (Tor relatively uneducated, physically imposing, effectively fearless; Edan intellectual, scrawny, anxious in a lot of situations) and yet they have such a positive relationship.


	91. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann receives a birthday present he will never forget from Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 June 2010  
> Ben Lomond, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- someone's got their work cut out for them! (27/01/10, Koffiefontein) -

The late afternoon breeze plays in Hermann's hair, sneaks through the weave of his hoodie and shirts, teases his wings.

One twitches and he rolls his shoulders by reflex.

"Cold? I brought—"

"I'm fine. Only wishing I could strip off and really **feel** this wind."

Edan side-eyes him. "I just wish I could strip you off."

Hermann hisses, digs an elbow into his ribs.

"Well, **excuuuuse** me for finding you as gorgeous as the view from here."

"I'm flattered. Also: mortified."

"You love the attention."

"Not from strangers."

"Ah." Edan twists, peers over his shoulder. "Point taken."

" **Finally.** "

"I suppose I should be glad you don't love me for my brains, yea?"

"I **do** love you for your brain—" Scoots closer, tucks himself under one of Edan's arms. "—among other things."

"Anything you can name in this setting?"

"Your incredible subtlety," drawls Hermann.

"Suppose I asked for that."

"You did, in point of fact."

Edan laughs.

Hermann hides the one that bubbles up in Edan's shoulder.

Edan tails off into a schoolboy giggle, buries his nose in Hermann's hair. "You smell like strawberry," he murmurs.

"I borrowed your shampoo this morning."

"Right! Yes! You did. I remember now."

Hermann leans away for a better view. "Are you alright?"

"Do I seem not alright?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

'Really,' replies Hermann's eyebrow.

Edan throws a glance over his shoulder, bows his head. "I've, uh, got something for you."

Hermann quirks an eyebrow.

Edan digs in a trouser pocket. "It's sort of a birthday present—" Switches pockets. "—sort of ... not. If I could find the fuckin'—" Unzips his jacket, fumbles about.

"Edan?"

Muffled Scots profanity.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "This wouldn't have something to do with the string tied around your belt loop, would it?"

Edan's head pops up. "My what now?"

"This—" Gives it a little tug. "—ribbon?"

Edan deflates. "Yea, that would be it." Sighs. "I did that so I wouldn't lose the thing. See now that might not've been the best approach."

"You didn't lose the thing, though."

"Thank **God** for that." Edan's fingers follow the ribbon into the depths of his pocket, reappear holding a sliver of metal, offer it to Hermann.

He swallows, doesn't take it. "It's still attached to you."

"Oh fer fu—" Deep breath. "Hold it— **just** hold it—"

Hermann takes it between thumb and forefinger.

"—'til I deal with this piece'a—aha!" Pulls out a pocketknife, cuts the ribbon, replaces the knife.

Hermann sets the ring on his flattened palm.

"Right. So. This's your birthday present." Edan takes a deep breath. "This—it's **not** an en—unless you—it's a-a promise I'll be true and never, **ever** leave you."

Hermann fights to keep his heart and voice steady. "That sounds a lot like an engagement ring, Edan."

"No!" Fluffs his hair with the ring-free hand. "I mean—it's—there's no pressure. **None** of the pressure or-or expectations. Just ... a promise from me to you, yea? No strings attached."

"Yes."

"'Yes' what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

Edan stares, mouth dropped open.

"I do believe that belongs on my finger now." Hermann tilts his head, stifles a maniac's grin.

"Yes, yes it does," croaks Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [strandkorbtraum](https://www.flickr.com/photos/levesch/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/levesch/16019438878/).
> 
> Swear to honest to god, this chapter was _not_ supposed to happen. I had this neat little plan all worked out for these two's future and it most certainly _did not_ include Edan proposing. But _noooooooo_ he got this idea into his little fluffy head and absolutely refused to be talked out of it. Sorry, readers.


	92. Ad Infinitum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann shares the good news of Edan's proposal with Karla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 June 2010  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- from Princess to Granpappa (14/02/22, Koffiefontein) -

After **floating** down Ben Lomond without feeling the chill at all and the drive back to the city—which probably should've been hair-raising given Edan's 'skill' behind the wheel—Hermann and Edan giggle their way back into Edan's darkened house.

"Should we wake them?" whispers Edan.

"We'll tell them in the morning," replies Hermann, tugging him toward the stairs.

Edan digs in his heels. "What about your family? Isn't it still daytime for some of 'em?"

"Well ... Karla's probably at work ...."

"Call her!"

Hermann raises an eyebrow. "Why're you so set on me calling someone?"

"'coz I need to call Trinity—she made me promise—and I don't want my side of the family to have a head start on partying."

Hermann digs for his mobile, sighs, "I'll call Karla."

"Thank you~!" Edan punctuates with a kiss.

Hermann glows red-hot at his center, pokes his way to Karla's contact.

Beside him, Edan fumbles with his mobile, seemingly having sprouted extra, disobedient fingers.

""What do you want?"" growls Karla.

"Is this a bad time?"

Karla sighs. ""It's always a bad time on internship days.""

"Your supervisor—"

""Is still a motherhumping asshole, yea.""

Hermann chuckles.

""Why're you calling?""

"Edan proposed—"

A gasp.

"—and I agreed to marry him."

Karla squeals—

A clatter and distant German profanity.

—huffs, ""It's about goddamn time.""

"Wha?"

""He asked Dee for permission to 'court' you **ages** ago.""

Hermann looks to Edan.

He's curled around his mobile, hissing down the line.

"He what?"

""Asked permission to seek your hand, like he was in a romance novel.""

Hermann looks at Edan again.

Who's now flailing and squealing.

"What?"

""This wasn't an impulse. He's been planning it for a while.""

"Edan?" he squeaks.

""Yes, Manny, your new fiancé actually **planned** this thing he just sprang on you.""

"That little ...."

""I believe the word you want is 'sweetheart'.""

"Yes—" Clears his throat. "—that's exactly what I was thinking."

Karla snickers.

Hermann sighs.

""So, tell me about the ring.""

He turns his hand to and fro and melts a little again. "It's a thin bit of titanium, twisted into a Möbius strip—"

""You two are such nerds.""

"I'll have you know it's quite a lovely piece."

""Of course, of course.""

"He had an inscription added ...." Trails off into a giggle.

""Which says?""

"'Ad infinitum, et ultra'."

""What is that? Latin?""

"Yes."

""And it means?""

"'To infinity and beyond'," titters Hermann.

""Oh good God, you're made for each other.""

Hermann glows.

""I'll let you get back to you betrothed and I'll resume plotting ways to use design tools to end Mr Fuckernoodle's reign of stupidity.""

"Alright."

""'night, Manny. And congratulations.""

"Thank you. Goodnight, Karla."

He disconnects, tucks the mobile into his trouser pocket.

"It's done?" asks Edan.

Hermann grunts an affirmative.

"So ... what should we do now?"

"Sleep?"

"Sleep. Sleep is good." Edan yawns. "After you, fiancé."

"Why thank you, fiancé."

They giggle and Hermann leads the way upstairs to Edan's bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Derek Law](https://www.flickr.com/photos/derekl/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/derekl/8474697314/in/photostream/).
> 
> Just a quickie little thing that came together when I realized 1) the boys didn't tell anyone the good news and 2) I never gave them a chance to describe Hermann's ring. My initial vision had Edan present a rather plain silver (or maybe titanium) ring. Hermann started talking and ... well, it turns out it was something else. XD
> 
> I also enjoy how little Karla's attitude toward the rest of humanity has improved since she was a kid.


	93. Sugar Cubes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan enjoy a lazy(ish) start to the first day of their engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 June 2010  
> Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom

\- Sailing in Iowa, of all places — S. D'onofrio (Jul 16 1990, Rathbun Lake) -

Hermann is awake.

""~crystal palaces for floral kings~"" sings a quiet voice.

He opens his eyes.

"~a well-known waving span of wings~"

Edan, in only his pajama bottoms, sings that Wire number whose title Hermann can never remember—

"~witness the sinking of the sun~"

—with morning light bleeding through the room's net curtains, giving him a silvery aura.

Hermann swallows.

"~a deep breath of submission has begun~" Edan combs his hair at the mirror, artfully ruffling it.

Hermann buries a smile in his pillow.

""~interrupting my train of thought~""

Rustling as hands paw through a suitcase.

Hermann peeks out.

"~lines of longitude and latitude~"

Edan straightens from a crouch, shirt and trousers in hand. "~define, refine my altitudes~"

"You know," drawls Hermann, "most people dress, **then** fix their hair."

Edan sparkles around. "Well, I'm not 'most people' now, am I?"

Hermann's heart and wings flutter. "Why you don't like to sing in public, I'll never understand. Your voice is lovely."

Edan grins, scoffs, "You've got your boyfriend goggles on, mate. I squeak like a cartoon character."

"These goggles are why I find you obscenely handsome, then?"

"Yea, definitely," says Edan, blushing fiercely from his hairline down across his chest.

"I beg to disagree and I would like to admire you at closer range."

"You're farsighted. Won't getting closer make me blurry?"

"Just get over here," huffs Hermann, shuffling to make more room, lifting a wing out of the way.

Edan laughs, eases himself to the mattress, and wiggles into place tight against Hermann's side.

Hermann kisses Edan's temple, drapes a wing across his back.

"Easy with the dusters," he giggles. "Ye know how ticklish I am."

"Yes. Yes, I do." And Hermann draaaaaags his primaries along Edan's side.

Edan squeak-squawk-squirms.

So Hermann does it again.

"E- **nough**! Please!" Edan squeals.

Hermann relents, stretches the wing so his feathers are no longer a torment.

"Thanks," wheezes Edan. "You are a lovely fuckin' bastard."

Hermann only nuzzles his hair.

"Is this what I should expect for the rest of my life?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good." Edan kisses just below Hermann's ear. "I'm looking forward to it."

Hermann hums.

Edan snuggles closer. "Is there anything you'd like to do today?"

"We need to go shopping."

"Why's that?"

"I believe you need a ring."

"Really?"

"Mhm. I was thinking of something with a diamond the size of a sugar cube."

Edan makes a face.

"Too ostentatious?"

"Diamonds are for **girls** ," he sniffs.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"Now, a hunk of **moldavite** the size of a sugar cube and you're onto something."

"Glass? You want to wear glass?"

"Glass full of **stardust** , Hermann."

" **Everything** on Earth is technically made of stardust, Edan."

"Oh no, you don't get to Carl Sagan your way out of this." Huffs. "You give me gaudy jewelry, it'd better be gaudy jewelry I love."

Hermann huffs, exasperated. "Where, pray tell, am I going to find a ring like that?"

"Two words: the internet."

With a sigh, "Here I was looking forward to peering into display cases in dusty little shops full of curiosities."

"Why do that when you could spend a day cuddling in bed with your new, decidedly **un** -dusty fiancé?" Edan bats his eyelashes.

"You have a very good point ...."

Edan sighs contently.

"Can you hand me my mobile?"

"Work work work ...." Edan stretches ... leans ... scrabbles ...  nabs it with his fingertips and passes it to Hermann. "You're asking Paige for help, yea?"

"You're convinced she's my daughter, so why **shouldn't** she have a say in this?"

Edan glows, coos, "I love you both." Lunges—

Hermann yelps, wings beating frantically.

—for his suitcase, digs about.

"What're you—"

Edan makes a triumphant noise, returns to snuggling with Lupe tucked under his chin.

"You brought the wolf."

"My little girl needs to meet her family," pouts Edan, "and she deserves a say on her dad's ring."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

**PAIGE:** Good morning, Hermann.

**PAIGE:** How may I help you?

**hermann_g:** Good morning, Paige.

**hermann_g:** Please locate a selection of

"Silver or gold?"

"Either."

**hermann_g:** Please locate a selection of men's rings set with moldavite stones

"Unfaceted, please," interjects Edan. "I like the natural look."

**hermann_g:** Please locate a selection of men's rings set with unfaceted moldavite stones available for purchase.

**PAIGE:** This will take a moment. Please be patient.

"She's **ridiculously** well-mannered for a five-month-old."

"She's **software**."

"She's my soon-to-be stepdaughter."

"Bonkers," mutters Hermann.

The mobile _ping_ s.

**PAIGE:** Initial research indicates rings are sold in a variety of sizes.

**PAIGE:** For what size do you wish me to search?

"Followup questions?!"

"She's just narrowing search parameters according to a set algorithm."

"It's a bloody followup question!" Bumps Hermann's shoulder. "She'll be asking 'why?' before you know it."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"They grow up so fast."

"What ring size do you need?"

"Dunno."

"You don't—" Hermann suppresses the urge to brain him with the mobile, does whack him in the back of the head with a wing. "How am I supposed to order one if you don't know the size?!"

"We can have it re-fitted at a jeweler's, right?

Hermann growls.

**hermann_g:** Please return rings with sizes in the middle 50% of the sizes available.

**PAIGE:** As you wish.

"Aww ... she loves you."

"She taught herself that."

" **Really?** That's so—"

"I programmed her to say it to mess with your head."

"Lovely. Fuckin'. **Bastard.** " Nuzzles Lupe. "Isn't he something, sweet-sweet?"

A chime from Hermann's mobile.

**PAIGE:** I have located 182 rings meeting your requirements.

**PAIGE:** In what order shall I display them?

**hermann_g:** Please sort the results by price, beginning with the most expensive.

**PAIGE:** Yes, sir.

PAIGE's window is replaced with one displaying a long column of thumbnail images.

Hermann passes the mobile to Edan.

"Thanks." He attends the screen, scrolling slowly through the options.

Hermann watches, warm glow settling in the center of his chest, smile playing around his mouth, and his fingers idly caressing his ring.

"What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how much I love you, about how beautiful you are, about how other people see you, with real colours."

Edan looks over, gaze low. "I'm over the moon about the first, still think you're mistaken on the second, and am pretty sure you're not missing much on the last."

"Why do you **insist** on deflecting praise?"

Edan turns back to the mobile and his swiping. "Because you lay it on too thick. I'm not as special as you think." A crooked smile. "I'm just lucky I got to you before anyone else."

Hermann prods the side of Edan's head. "You're forgetting the fact **you're** the one I desperately **wanted** to approach me from the first time I set eyes on you. Out of all the people in Manchester and I wanted you and **only** you." Leans closer, whispers in his ear. "Why else would I agree to marry you, _leannan_?"

Edan bows his head, wipes away the start of a tear.

Hermann wraps an arm around his shoulders, a wing across his middle.

"Thank you," Edan croaks, eyes firmly on the mobile screen.

Hermann sighs, "Someday this will get through your thick Scottish skull."

"Maybe someday."

"Hopeless."

"Yea." Edan passes back the mobile. "That's the one I like."

"It's lovely." Hermann pokes through the order, while Edan buries his face in Lupe's fur. "I'm having it sent to you—"

"Send it to yourself and you can present it properly when you visit."

"That's a much better plan." Hermann makes the corrections—"Done."—closes the window, and recalls PAIGE.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** You're welcome, Hermann.

**PAIGE:** What shall I do next, sir?

**hermann_g:** Please put yourself in research mode until battery life falls to 50%.

**PAIGE:** Yes, sir.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** Entering research mode.

The screen powers down.

"So ... that's sorted." Hermann tosses the mobile in the direction of the dresser.

It clatters to the floor.

"What do you want to do now?"

"I have a few ideas."

"Such as?"

"Cuddling, for a start."

"Only for a start?" Edan teases.

Hermann thumps him again with a wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Eva Vincent](https://www.flickr.com/photos/evasight/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/evasight/192789215/).
> 
> More young nerds in love, blah blah blah.
> 
> Edan's song of choice this time is Wire's "[Map Ref. 41°N 93°W](https://youtu.be/sCJwI-ubzGM)". He's made it to the last verse before Hermann wakes up.


	94. Pinkie Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan celebrate Hermann's impending employment with a tiny public display of affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 September 2010  
> Oxford, England, United Kingdom

\- must. touch. them. (14/08/22, Anchorage) -

Hermann's step lightens as he skips—well, hobble-skips—down the stairs from his last lab session of the day.

A wolf-whistle cuts through the air.

Hermann snaps his gaze toward the sound.

"Well, if that isn't exactly what this doctoral student ordered," drawls Edan, waving—his ring glinting under the lights—and leaning against the nearest lamppost.

As Hermann grins so widely his cheeks hurt, Edan peels himself off, bounds over, and wraps Hermann in a hug.

Hermann inhales a lungful of strawberry soap-discount laundry detergent smell, sighs contently.

"Good day?"

"Good day made even better by this."

Edan huffs a laugh. "Take it the not-technically-an-interview this afternoon went well?"

Hermann pushes away. " **Very** well. He made an offer."

"Aaaaaand?"

"I accepted."

"So, that's it? It's a done deal?"

Hermann shrugs. "I don't have the appointment in writing, but he certainly gave me that impression."

"A tenure track position at Imperial College before you've even defended." Smiles, eyes bright. "If I didn't already know you were a genius, I would now."

"I'm not a genius," Hermann mumbles. "All I do is work hard."

"I started primary school three years before you and I'm still at **least** two years away from getting my doctorate, never mind a position, and I work every bit as hard. If effort was all it took, we should be closer to even, yea?"

"It's not a fair comparison. Our 'schools' were potatoes and oranges."

"Stop arguing and accept you're exceptional."

"Fine," huffs Hermann. "I'm exceptional." Sniffs, then, "Can we go now?"

Edan offers his hand.

"What?"

"Hold hands?"

"We agreed—"

Edan rolls his eyes, sighs, "You put a ring on it and you still won't hold my hand in public."

"I don't want our private life made public."

"We're nobody special: nobody cares about what we do." Smirks. "Or who."

" **I** care."

Edan deflates. "I just—" Deep breath. "Sorry. I need to respect your boundaries better."

"I wish—I wish I could be more relaxed, but ...." Sighs.

Edan pulls him close again, whispers, "You need to avoid attention at all costs. To stay safe."

Hermann nods, miserable, and steps back.

"Pinkie swear I won't push you like that again."

Hermann frowns at the extended digit.

Edan tries his puppy-dog eyes, wiggles the finger.

Hermann gazes heavenward, hooks it with his own.

"Thanks, _leannan_. Let's be off!" Edan lowers his arm, but doesn't release his grip.

Hermann smiles to himself as they set off, pinkie-around-pinkie, for his residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [k8](https://www.flickr.com/photos/k8s/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/k8s/5350724514/in/photolist-9TnGn-J1Dn8-99PRYW-33hVx-67qgdS-2yJh4-mPtnF-4Z4HkC-zPcv7-5qCi4e-avi7Ra-33hVw-62E3TQ-6yahte-8C5gPm-o2W4J-5Wx6Ea-mN5Nd-7JRcQ2-dsQfuq-dsQ5Gt-7LRMZS-9nMcqy-EyhiEe-34kQKi-6Ndpbm-7a5Yuu-r8WzH-Cvmeb-7AiPfK-3SuA8c-59uAHC-4QCc54-6eebD6-2tjEw-cbm1sS-cbkY4f-oRPRGB-6rzRYM-qBzbR-4sTdfF-4SJ2n-66edfQ-7JYPjL-dMQW-88YLTC-6EveaZ-eiGSnN-4v1y3q-5F5iL).
> 
> I hope you're not getting sick of fluff, because I can't seem to stop writing it.


	95. Peridot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann visits Edan and finds _another_ surprise waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 May 2011  
> Mile End, London, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1620.jpg [Peridot, London, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan meets him at the door of his building, looking a very particular type of sheepish.

Hermann lowers his brows.

"Hi?" Edan sketches a wave.

"What have you done?"

"Why do you think I've done something?"

Hermann gives him a Look, then trumps past.

Edan catches up at the door to his rooms. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Reid. You've done something and you're afraid I'm going to disapprove."

Edan works the lock, takes a deep breath, says, "Remember the morning after my graduation?"

Hermann steps inside and out of his shoes. "You being too hungover to move? Mandy?"

"Yeaaaaa ... remember what I said?" Edan locks up, slouches against the wall.

"You mostly made unintelligible noises until early afternoon."

"Between those, I think I mentioned my unfortunate habit of adopting fluffy things when I get drunk?"

Hermann's heart sinks. "What. Did. You. Do."

Edan, eyes firmly on the floor, swings open the washroom door.

The puppy inside _whuff_ s quietly, wags its tail.

Edan kneels, rubs its ears.

Puppy leans against his leg, wiggles its entire back half.

"You stole a dog."

"Her name's Peridot," Edan mumbles, "and I found her behind a bunch of bins."

Hermann drags a hand down his face. "I'm going to regret asking, but what were you doing behind a bunch of bins?"

"I thought I saw a portal, but it was neon on a puddle?"

He rolls his eyes heavenward. "I was right: I regret asking."

A quiet mental five-count.

Edan sits, crosses his legs.

Peridot scrambles into his lap, panting happily, tail whapping against his knee.

He leans his head back out of tongue range, giggles.

Hermann sighs, leans himself against the counter, hooks his cane on the edge. "What do you propose to do with her?"

"Umm, keep her?"

"What did you say? I'd **swear** you said you wanted to keep her."

"I did."

"Bonkers," mutters Hermann.

Peridot settles down with a sigh, curls up in Edan's lap.

He tousles her ears, coos.

"Edan ... pets aren't allowed here."

"Good thing I'm moving soon, then."

"You can't **seriously** be considering this."

"How can I say 'no' to this little sugar lump?"

Hermann crosses his arms. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time you dealt with a dog?"

"That was **brilliant**."

"Being dragged across three gardens and swallowing a worm is 'brilliant'."

"Yeaaa," he sighs. "Good times."

"I nearly **suffocated** under a litter of half-grown deerhounds!"

"You did **not**. I got you dug out before there was **any** danger." Inclines his head toward the puppy. "'sides, she's only one dog. Hardly enough to bury you."

"Unless she turns out to be a Mastiff."

"She's not a Mastiff," scoffs Edan. "She's probably mostly Rottweiler, with a dash of something skinnier 'coz she's a little light-boned to be full-blooded. She'll weigh less than half as much as those deerhounds, at most."

"You researched dog breeds."

"I had to make sure she was legal to own and wasn't likely to squish you."

"How thoughtful."

"I've also already got her water and food bowls, puppy chow, a blankie and cushion, a lead and harness, her crate's on hold at the shop, **and** she has an appointment for jabs and spaying next week and starts obedience classes the week after. Oh! And I've asked the property agent to add 'pet-friendly' to our list of requirements."

"Dear God, you're determined to go through with this."

"'course I am. She may be here because of a night out drinking, but I love her and she's my perfect little girl."

Hermann sighs, slides himself to the floor.

Peridot lifts her head, tail wagging hopefully.

Hermann sighs again, loosens his posture.

Peridot wiggles over, thoroughly investigates his lap, then curls up with another soft _whuff_.

Hermann smiles a little and scratches her ears.

A few companionable moments pass.

"You're taking this rather better than I expected."

"Oh, I'm not mad at little Dottie here—" Strokes along her back, fixes Edan with a Look. "—since it's not her fault her adoptive father has acted like an impulsive, inconsiderate, autocratic, short-sighted **muppet**."

Edan cringes.

"You've taken on a huge responsibility—for another bloody **life** , Edan—for both of us without even **asking** me what I thought."

"I—" He deflates.

"In all of that research, did you think about the sort of **hazard** she'll be for me? She gets underfoot and I can be seriously hurt, never mind what she could do to me if she bolts when I have her lead."

Edan pulls his knees to his chest.

"There's also the financial commitment. This will certainly raise the cost of our housing, in addition to the price of her food, veterinary care, license, and boarding when we leave town, and the value of our time caring for her."

"And you'll be the one making most of the money and I've just decided how you'll be spending a lot of it. Without asking," adds Edan, miserable.

"Mhmm."

Edan takes a deep breath. "I can—" Swallows. "I'll turn her over to the RSPCA on Monday and return the things I can for refunds."

Dottie sighs, sprawls as Hermann scratches behind her front leg.

"I never said I didn't want to keep her."

Edan blinks rapidly. "But you ... what?"

"I've always wanted a pet, **which** you'd know if you'd asked—"

Edan cringes anew.

"—and she is a lovely and already well-behaved dog **and** I'm finally in a place with the time, space, and income to properly care for one, so she can stay."

"Really?" squeaks Edan.

"Really. You, however, owe me an apology and two promises."

Edan sits straight, puts his shoulders back. "I—" Clears his throat. "Hermann, I apologize. I acted like an impulsive, inconsiderate, autocratic, short-sighted muppet. I should've thought about how claiming a puppy would affect you and /definitely should've asked before I started planning to keep her. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now: the promises."

"I promise not to make any big financial or life-changing commitments without talking to you first."

"That's one."

"I, uh—" Runs a hand through his hair. "Umm ... little help?"

"It involves your drinking."

"O-okaaaaaay ... oh!" Brightens. "If I, in a drunken state, bring home something alive, I'll turn it over to the proper authorities as soon as I can stand again."

"Close enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Pride Glasgow](https://www.flickr.com/photos/prideglasgow/) [[CC BY-NC 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/prideglasgow/4809778773/in/photostream/).
> 
> artificiallifecreator and I were talking about how we could see Hermann and Edan winding up with dog of some sort, but couldn't quite figure out how they'd decide to get one. Then the 'Mandy' incident happened and I _knew_ from whence the dog came. Thus, Peridot the puppy enters the family.
> 
> EDIT: MoiraColleen raised a most excellent point in the first comment below about the breeziness of Hermann's initial reaction to Edan's out-of-the-blue adoption of a puppy, so I poked a little deeper and found an extension and new ending.


	96. Neighbourhoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan begin the search for a home to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 May 2011  
> Mile End, London, England, United Kingdom

\- Flatmate shopping for Dad! #coryrossishere // Dad has enough (dust) bunnies, thank you. - 7. (2011 June 09, London) -

Hermann shuffles out of the shower, shakes drops from his wings, towels off, and sets to dressing.

""The agent sent a list overnight~!""

"Excellent." He tightens his binder, tugs on a tee, then a collared shirt, then a lightweight jumper. A quick check of his hair (good enough) and he limps into the main room.

"Good morning~!" Edan pecks his check, offers his mobile. "Again."

From the floor, Dottie woffles (a little muffled by her Elizabethan collar) and her tail _thump_ s against her cushion.

"Good morning, Dottie."

She settles down as best she can with the plastic neckwear.

"Doesn't she seem brighter this morning?"

"Mhm. Her stitches seem to be healing well, too."

"You'll be back to full speed in no time, won't you, sugar-loaf?"

" _whuff_!"

Hermann grunts, flops on his stomach on the bed, studies the list of suggested flats. "These are all over the city. Where do you think we should focus?"

Edan comes around, perches on the mattress near his head. "You'll be the working man, Mr Tenure Track, so we should settle closer to your college than mine."

Hermann frowns.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to inconvenience—"

Edan rolls his eyes. "I'm a student: I can commute."

"Your research requires the labs while I can do mine from anywhere."

"Yea, but you have courses to teach and office hours and meetings and such like you need to be on time for. You can't afford to subject yourself to the vagaries of public transport, 'specially not London's."

Dottie, peeking over the edge, _ruff_ s and wags her tail.

"Is it time for walkies?" asks Edan.

Dottie tilts her ears forward, wiggles.

"Please get your lead."

She skitters off.

"'Please'?"

Edan shrugs. "It works for Paige."

Hermann concedes.

Dottie patters back with the strap in her mouth.

Edan slides off, crouches. "Thank you~! Please give."

She drops the lead in his hand, sits.

"Good girl! Thank you!" He thumps her on the shoulder, clips it to her collar, and straightens. "Care to join us, Hermann?"

"Of course." He eases to standing.

They exit; Hermann nabs the key from Edan's pocket, locks up, leads them off. "What about Dottie during the day?"

"I've already got permission from the head of the college and the building manager to keep her with me in the office and I've picked out an under-desk cushion for her and bought a muzzle I can pop on in case she worries people on the Tube or in the halls."

Dottie _whuff_ s.

"See?

"Must you **insist** on being right?"

"When I'm right, yea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [wimbledonian](https://www.flickr.com/photos/wimbledonian/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/wimbledonian/1235171566/).
> 
> Just a little morning-in-the-life thing and Edan seems to have learned his lesson from the last chapter about thinking about Hermann's needs and talking things over before making big decisions.


	97. Could Be Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan (and Dottie) search for a home of their own in London and are pleasantly surprised by what they find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 June 2011  
> London, England, United Kingdom

\- Nikiski, December 2025 — Raleigh B. -

"Good morning, gents!"

"'morning~!" chirps Edan as they stuff themselves into the car.

"Good morning, Ms Patel," greets Hermann, buckling his seatbelt.

Dottie _whuff_ s.

"And you, too, sweetheart."

Dottie thumps her tail against Edan's ribs, bells jingling.

"That is so cute," coos Ms Patel. "I've never seen a dog who likes wearing bells before."

"They make her feel pretty, I think, like her cape."

"She looks perfectly adorable in green."

"If you like this, you should see her in her Pride outfit."

Ms Patel laughs. "Well, now that we're all here, we need get rolling. A new opportunity presented itself and we absolutely **have** to squeeze it in."

"Where would this be?" prompts Hermann.

"Battersea."

"Battersea?!"

"We can't afford Battersea."

"But you **can** afford **this** flat~!" She glows. "The cheat sheet's in my bag."

Edan stretches, digs, comes up with a couple of printouts, passes one over.

Hermann reads. Goggles.

Edan makes a strangled noise.

"This ... this is a typo."

"Nope!" Glides them around a corner. "The seller is mo-ti-vay-ted."

"So ... it's, like, a raft in the middle of the Thames, then? A dollhouse? In the drains?"

"No, no, and no. It's actually what it says on the tin. I've sold flats in the building next door and, trust me, this is one lovely block."

"What the ever-loving fuck?" breathes Edan. «This **has** to be some sort of trick.»

«I honestly don't know **what** to think.» Re-reads. «This doesn't happen in our reality.»

«Maybe that last mini-roundabout was a portal to another dimension?»

Dottie shifts, woffles.

«Never mind, she's pretty sure we're in the same old dimension.»

«How would she know?»

«Dogs are sensitive to space-time distortions.»

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"Sooooo ... this is the street. It's pretty quiet, without a lot of traffic, as it's all residential and the parking's by permit. If you decide to buy a motor of you own, you can apply for a spot."

"Good to know."

"If you'd rather public transport, there are two stations within a half-mile."

"Great."

"The nearest shops are two streets over and anything you need day-to-day should be available there." She steers the car to the kerb, pulls the handbrake, turns off the engine. "And we're here!"

Hermann, Edan, and Dottie scramble out, follow Ms Patel over to a six-story purpose-built block.

"We're headed to the third floor," she says, unlocking the outer door and gesturing them inside. "Lift is ahead on the right."

Edan takes the lead, presses the call button.

_ding_!

They shuffle inside.

"So, there are three flats on each floor along with a small lobby for the stairs and lift. The one we're looking at is on the single side, so your only shared walls will be the floor and ceiling. It's to your right."

Lift doors slide open.

They shuffle out, pause in front of the only door in that wall.

Ms Patel unlocks it. "I really think you'll love the place."

Hermann shrugs, 'we'll see.'

"After you," says Edan with a bow.

Hermann sniffs, shtumps past.

The place, at first scan, is well-maintained, neat, and arranged around a central hallway.

"Full bath, W.C., kitchen, and reception room are on the right; the three bedrooms are on the left."

"Cool," says Edan, heading for the far end with Dottie at his heels.

Hermann takes the first door on the left: a small bedroom, its window overlooking the street.

A perfect office.

The next room is much the same, although a little bigger.

Just right for Bastien when he's ready for uni.

The final door is a generous bedroom.

Hermann swallows.

It would make a beautiful space for them to share.

He takes a deep breath, puts his shoulders back, and limps across the hall.

Edan stands motionless in the center of a room lit by an enormous window.

"What's—dear God."

Hard-soled shoes approach and Ms Patel says, "Looks like you're enjoying the reception room."

Hermann swallows. "This's ... nice."

She chuckles. "It's certainly roomy for a city flat. It was completely remodeled five years ago, but the floor in this room and the baseboards are new this spring—oh!—and all the windows were replaced in the autumn with the latest, most efficient type."

Edan nods absently.

"Now, the kitchen. **That** was redone again last year with all new appliances, including a washer and dryer." "Why so much work?"

"The management likes to keep things up-to-the-minute for their tenants."

"It's been a rental?"

"Mhm. Most of the building is leased to young professionals like yourselves, but they occasionally sell a flat to guarantee some continuity in residents." Ms Patel makes a thoughtful face, skims something on her mobile. "That **is** the one odd condition of sale here, though. The seller requires right-of-first-refusal if you ever decide to sell. But! It **also** says they'll 'subsidize improvements, including the provision of approved, licensed contractors'."

Edan grunts.

Hermann's stomach goes a little funny.

Edan queries.

Hermann waves him off.

"Would you like to see the kitchen?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

They shuffle from the big room into an efficient little kitchen.

Edan drags his fingers along the counter-tops until he reaches the most distant corner, asks, "Where does this door go?"

"The balcony."

"B-balcony?"

Ms Patel smiles. "Go ahead and step out."

Edan pushes open the door—

Dottie darts through, puts her forepaws on the bottom bar of the railing, sniffs the air, tail wagging.

—leans next to her, gazing out over a smallish common garden.

Hermann joins them, wings twitch—rolls his shoulders, sighs.

Edan smiles, takes and squeezes his hand, says quietly, «We'd be crazy not to jump at this.»

Hermann shifts his feet.

« **Crazy.** »

«I don't know ... something seems wrong about it.»

«Hermann, it's a beautiful three-bedroom Battersea flat that's **in** **our** **price** **range** , of **course** it feels wrong. It **is** wrong.»

Dottie _whuff_ s at a bird fluttering past.

Hermann rubs the back of his neck.

«I really like this place.»

«I do, too.»

«It's the least expensive so far, by **a** **lot**.»

«That's true, but it's on the third floor. What if the lift goes out?»

«That ... is a problem. I'll carry you?»

Hermann scoffs.

«I can help you up the stairs?»

«That seems more plausible.»

«But is it acceptable?»

Hermann shrugs.

«On the positive side, third floor means it's harder to see in?»

Hermann agrees.

«We can **definitely** afford it **and** save.»

Hermann hums an acknowledgment.

«You can practically see your office from here.»

«You're over half a city from yours.»

«We agreed distance for me didn't matter.»

Hermann huffs.

They listen to the pleasant buzz of city sounds for a little while.

Hermann takes a deep breath. «You're right. We'd be crazy not to jump at this.»

«Brilliant. Do we still want to see the rest?»

«I think that'd be wise. We should probably also sleep on the decision.»

Edan beams. «My fiancé is the smartest fiancé.» He gives Dottie's lead a tug. "Dottie, please come."

She whines, stands firm.

"Dottiiiiiie ...."

She _whuff_ s, lets herself be towed to Ms Patel in the foyer.

"So, what do you think?"

"It's very nice," says Hermann, neutral.

Ms Patel blinks. "O-of course. If the seller asks about your interest, what should I tell them?"

"Say that we are interested, but need more time before making a serious commitment."

Ms Patel chews her lip, makes a note on her mobile. "Well. Are you ready to see the next place?"

"Yes, please," replies Hermann.

"Excellent! Let's be off!"

They follow her out, then through five more flats before they finally say goodbye as she drops them at Edan's residence.

"That," says Hermann, "was a long fucking day." He collapses in the armchair, flexes his knee, grimacing.

"Yea. Would you like some ice?"

"Yes, please."

Edan fishes a gel pack from the mini-freezer, scoots the desk chair over—

Hermann props up his leg.

—settles the ice across Hermann's knee.

"Thanks." Hermann lets his head fall back.

Edan squeezes his foot, shuffles to the cabinet, dumps food in Dottie's bowl—

She immediately crunches away.

—adds water to the kettle, sets it to boil, then flops flat out on the bed.

Dottie slorps water.

"What do you think?" asks Hermann.

"About what?"

"The flats we've seen, muppet."

Edan takes a deep breath. "Well ... after seventeen of 'em ... that Battersea place ...."

"What about it?"

"It's almost too good to be true, yea?"

Hermann grunts.

"But it's so **sweet**. Like, it could be a real **home** for us." Sighs. "What about you?"

"I ... Battersea was impressive, but I can't shake the feeling there's something wrong with it."

"Like I said, that flat in that neighbourhood at that price **is** wrong. It shouldn't exist." Edan pushes up to sitting. "But it could be our home."

Hermann smiles. "It could be."

Edan grins. "Sounds like we have a winner, then."

"What about Mandy?"

"She's not picky."

Hermann snorts. "Lupe?"

"She's happy wherever we are. PAIGE?"

"As long as the power stays on, she's content. Dottie?"

"What do you say, sweetie-pie? Did you like the Battersea flat well enough?"

She pants, _whump_ s her tail against her cushion.

"That's a 'yes'?"

_whump whump whump_

"It seems we're all of a mind."

"Battersea, here we come!"

"Brace yourselves," drawls Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Jon Johnson](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jonjohnson/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jonjohnson/98111403/).
> 
> Aren't our boys and pup lucky?
> 
> And, ugh, writing this was a chore. It took three completely separate tries to get it right and talking to the always wonderful artificiallifecreator _finally_ gave me the angle I needed to get it right(ish).


	98. Home-making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan set up housekeeping in Battersea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 June 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- sonya's front room (05/03/05, Kimberley) -

Edan, balanced atop the new stepladder and singing "Adventures Close to Home", uses the new screwdriver to attach the new brackets for the new curtain rod to the newly-painted wall of their new fla— **home**.

Hermann's wings flutter under his baggy tee-shirt.

"Pass me another of those thingies."

"A screw?"

"Yea, that's what I said."

"No, you didn't." Hermann hands over the fastener.

"Don't be pedantic to a man holding tools."

"It's not as though it's a hammer and you're Thor."

"Quiet, you." Edan grunts as he puts on the final twists. "Why don't you be useful as well as beautiful and unwrap the curtains?"

"I did that while you were putting up the first fitting and, while you were working on the next, threaded them."

"Oh. Thank you." He climbs down, examines Hermann's work. "I thought we were going to put both the net **and** the sheer up in here?"

"There's only one rod."

Edan blinks. "You're saying ... you didn't know how to get them both on there?"

Hermann ruffles. "It would look stupid to have a net panel, then a sheer panel."

"But—" Ducks his head, runs his fingers through his hair. "Hermann, _leannan_ , you line up the loops and thread them on simultaneously."

Hermann ... deflates. "Shit."

"I think you've been staring at a screen instead of three-dimensional space too long."

Hermann lets his wings droop. "I'm a programmer now: it's not like I have much choice."

"I'll have to drag you out to the stars more often, then." Edan smiles, begins stripping the cloth from the pole.

Hermann sighs, starts tugging the other panel loose. "I envy you your astronomy programme."

"Don't get too starry-eyed—"

Hermann snorts.

"—as I'm probably won't be nearly as employable as you. You may have betrothed yourself to a trophy spouse."

"What a handsome trophy you are."

Edan blushes, early season freckles fading. "You finished?"

"Just have."

"Cool. Then we lay the first panel out—" Floats the sheer down to the floor. "—then the second—" Spreads the net over it. "—line up the loops—" Does, then sits. "—and start stringing 'em up."

As Edan makes slow progress, Hermann repeats his actions with the two remaining bits of cloth.

Dottie clicks across the hardwood, sniffs at the drapes near Edan's hands, tail wagging low.

"What do you think, sugar-loaf? My work up to your standards?"

She steps back, then pushes her head between Edan's arm and his body, looking hopeful.

"I'll spoil you properly in a moment."

She woffles, leans against his side, wagging her back half.

"I really will. Cross my heart."

Dottie wiggles harder.

"I don't think she believes you."

"Kids," sighs Edan.

"My daughter doesn't do that," smugs Hermann.

"You can turn your daughter off when she misbehaves. This one—" Hip bumps Dottie. "—doesn't have a switch."

"I believe I like it better that way."

"Me, too." Edan smooches her head.

" _whuff_!"

Edan drops his hands to his lap. "Can you image what it would be like if PAIGE couldn't be switched off? The mayhem an AI with an internet connection and curiosity could get up to?"

Hermann lets his current loop fall. "Edan, that's essentially what PAIGE has been since the winter holidays. I've left her in research mode rather than shutting her down completely."

Edan blinks rapidly.

"What're you thinking?"

"I'm praying to every god I don't believe in she isn't starting her inevitable descent into GLaDOS." Swallows hard. "Right under our noses."

Dottie licks his chin.

"Thanks, sweet-feet."

"I don't think PAIGE is complex enough to develop into anything so sophisticated as to ask for deadly neurotox—"

""I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU~!""

Edan shrieks—

Dottie _yeep_ s, skitters—

—levitates into the stepladder, tangles his feet—

—flees into the hallway.

—and goes down with a horrible clatter.

Silence, except for Edan's heavy breathing.

"Was ... was that PAIGE?"

"Y-yea." Edan sits up. "Ow." Rubs the back of his head. "I, uh, changed her default alert the other day."

Hermann exhales. "It was only a freak of timing then, not a sign of impending sentience. Or malice."

"Don't care. I'm setting it back to something not-terrifying." Fishes in a pocket, extracts his mobile, thumbs aggressively at it.

"You may also wish to turn down the volume."

"Good idea."

Hermann rolls his shoulders, shuffles his wings, picks up threading where he'd left off. "Why did you change it, anyway?"

"I ... well, I wanted to make her sound more human. Done." Puts the mobile away, extracts himself from the ladder, resumes the curtain work.

Hermann schools his face to neutrality, leans into Edan's space. "It's you, isn't it?"

"Wha?"

" **You're** why there's going to be an AI uprising in the future. Your desire to make them human will doom us all."

Edan sits straighter, eyes wide. "You're right. I might be the author of the machine apocalypse! You need to **stop** me!"

"Oh, I have just the thing for that."

"Oh you do." Edan leans in until their noses touch. "What tricks do you have up your sleeve for me, fiancé?"

"I have an entire bedroom **full** of—" Leers.

"Yes?"

"—Swedish flat-pack furniture which needs assembling."

"You should've told me you're a sadist sooner." Helps Hermann to his feet.

"Didn't the ever-present restraints give it away?"

Edan snickers, scans the sofa box. "This'll be a piece of cake." Rubs his hands. "Just call me Edan Thorson."

"I thought the joke behind the monogrammed crockery was that your father's name meant 'Thor's cauldron'."

"Didn't I just say to not be pedantic to the man holding tools?"

"That's a hex key, dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [danielle defrancesco](https://www.flickr.com/photos/danielleblue/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/danielleblue/6951195835/).
> 
> Edan's song of choice this day is [The Slits' "Adventures Close to Home"](https://youtu.be/0tI7aM0eKcg).
> 
> This was a fun one. I was pleasantly surprised to learn Edan is at least decent with hand tools.


	99. Storm Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan brace themselves for the possibility of the riots breaking out around London reaching their neighborhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 August 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- epidemic! (02/12/18, LA) -

"Thanks, Dad. Love ye! 'bye!" Edan taps his mobile, tucks it in a pocket, flops down on the sofa between Hermann and Dottie.

Dottie lifts her head, _thump_ s her tail.

Edan scratches her chin.

"What did they say?" prompts Hermann, setting his laptop on the side table.

"Mum's given orders not to go outside until everything calms down."

"Well, far be it from me to contravene the will of Dona Reid."

Edan snorts.

Hermann scratches his nape. "She thinks it'll spread here?"

"Yea. Said she'd bet the house we'll have problems." Adopts Mrs Reid's prosody: "'Riots're like colds: they keep going 'til everyone catches 'em.'"

Hermann grunts.

"What're you thinking?"

"This ... this is like waiting for a storm: you suspect it's coming and soon, but don't know exactly when or how bad it will be and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Pretty much." Gives Hermann's hand a reassuring squeeze. "So we follow my Dad's advice for storms and keep our heads down, hold on, and wait for it to blow over."

"I hate feeling this powerless over my own life," grumbles Hermann.

Edan threads an arm between Hermann's shoulders and his wings and pulls him close. "Not my favourite sensation either, but we'll get through." Nuzzles his hair.

Hermann whines quietly.

"What could go wrong? We have Dottie to protect us!"

"Dottie, wonderful as she is, can't put out fires."

"It's only been shops—and the occasional flat above them."

"So far."

"It'll likely stay that way. That's how these things go."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Took a few history classes for variety."

"I still don't like it."

"Because you're a reasonable, law-abiding person who enjoys a steady, routine existence."

Hermann sniffs, ruffles his wings beneath his pajamas.

Edan hugs him tighter.

He sighs.

"Listen, nothing'll happen before dark, so let's ask PAIGE to keep us updated and try to get some work done, then we can marathon _Red Dwarf_ or something else funny, yea?"

Hermann sits up straighter, pulls the computer back onto his lap. "I guess that's as good a plan as any."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

**PAIGE:** Good morning, Hermann.

**PAIGE:** How may I help you?

**hermann_g:** Good morning, Paige.

**hermann_g:** Please watch the news feeds and send me an alert if there are reports of rioting in this or surrounding districts.

**PAIGE:** Alert created.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** What shall I do next?

**hermann_g:** Do we own all series of Red Dwarf in digital format?

**PAIGE:** Your shared collection currently only holds the first 4 series.

**PAIGE:** The 3rd series bears the markers of a pirated download.

Hermann turns to Edan, brows lowered.

"What?"

"You promised me you deleted all your torrents."

"I **did** delete them."

"Why, then, does PAIGE assert there's still an pirated series of _Red Dwarf_ on our network?"

Edan goes for innocent. "Maybe she downloaded it?"

"Reid."

His gaze slides to a spot somewhere over to Hermann's left shoulder. "Maybe I forgot to delete it?"

Hermann crosses his arms.

"Them?"

"We'll just take care of that right now, shall we?"

"But—"

" **No.** "

Edan whines.

**hermann_g:** Please delete all pirated media files from mine and Edan's personal devices.

**PAIGE:** I will be unable to complete this request until Edan reconnects external storage device SOOPER_SECRET to the network.

Hermann's fingers still on the keys. "'SOOPER_SECRET'?"

"It—it's not what you think!"

Hermann twists to face him. "What **do** I think, Reid?"

"That the drive is full of torrents and porn?"

"Yes, that **is** what I'm thinking."

"But it's **really** full of failed writing projects! And, uh—" Voice drops to a whisper. "—song demos."

"You write songs?"

"Yes?" Fluffs his hair. "I mean, I did? Kinda?"

Hermann blinks. "Will you let me listen to them?"

"Umm, I'd rather ... not?" Ducks his head. "They're total crap."

"They can't be any worse than that poor excuse for music we heard last weekend."

Edan ponders. "Yeaaaaa ... I do have **them** beat."

"Maybe we can listen when we need a break from comedies, then?"

"Maybe." Edan grins. "I may have to get drunk first."

"You are **not** getting drunk on the eve of a riot."

"How about tipsy? I can probably face it tipsy."

"One cider. **One.** "

Edan cheers, scoops Dottie into his lap. "Did'ye hear that, sugar-bump? I get to be drunk tonight~!"

Dottie woffles, licks his chin.

Hermann sighs fondly, opens the syllabus he needs to finish tweaking, and gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Hillary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/lamenta3/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/lamenta3/4334144802/).
> 
> It was an 'aha!' moment when I realized our boys would just be getting settled into their new lives in the big city when the [riots of 2011](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_England_riots) broke out in Britain. The fires and looting did reach Battersea on the night of 7 August, the day this chapter's set. In other words, Mrs Reid was right. XD


	100. Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet evening in for Hermann, Edan, and Dottie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 31 August 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- thank god no one was hurt (05/05/18, Vladivostok) -

Dottie welcomes Hermann back to the flat with bright eyes and an enthusiastic wiggle.

"Hello, there. Did you keep your dad out of trouble today?"

Dottie _whuff_ s, bows, and wags.

Hermann steps out of his shoes and into his slippers. "Good job. Thank you."

Dottie jingles off.

He shakes his head and follows her to the kitchen.

Edan stands at the stove, singing ("Janie Jones"), and stirring a large pot of something which smells **heavenly**.

Hermann hooks his cane on the counter, drapes himself against Edan's back, wrapping his arms around his waist.

""How was your second day as a professing professor?""

Hermann groans.

Edan shuffles them to the right. ""That bad?""

He turns his head. "Unlike the fawning yesterday, these were all out to challenge my authority. I felt like a child who'd wandered into the wrong room."

""This was the upper-level bunch?"

Hermann grunts.

""You put the fear of God in 'em, yea?"" He shuffles them back to the stove and something splashes into the pot.

"I tried, but I'm afraid I'm not intimidating enough for this lot."

""Take Dottie on Friday.""

"What good will that do?"

""Put her muzzle on and sit her down in front of the room. **We** know she's a bark-free sugar-puff, but **they** don't. 'Big black dog with a muzzle' equals ' **please** don't bite us' and 'holy shit our professor's a bad-ass'.""

Hermann snorts a laugh.

""Just make sure to tie her lead to something so she doesn't wander into the crowd to make friends. Would **totally** ruin the effect.""

"It certainly would."

Edan hums.

Hermann sighs.

""Now, you know I love you and all the closeness I can get, but I need to move freely for this bit and you need to turn the dusters loose so we can eat in comfort.""

Hermann whines as he separates, then picks up his cane and heads for their bedroom.

Off come his trousers, jacket, jumper, shirts, and binder. He works his wings through their full range of motion, then lets them sag. With a sigh, he retrieves his pajamas and slides them on, grabs his housecoat from behind the door and climbs inside. A roll of his shoulders to settle the fabric and he hobbles back to the kitchen.

Edan's still at the stove, singing ("London's Burning") and ladling that heavenly-smelling stuff into bowls.

Hermann leans against the doorway, inhales deeply. "I still don't know what to make of your skill as a cook."

Edan grins, wafts a bowl of a stew under Hermann's nose, sets it in front of Hermann's place at the counter.

Hermann slides into his seat.

Edan snags a pair of bowls from beside the stove, puts one at his seat, one between the two of them. "I've told you: I had to learn if I didn't want to starve or live on instant noodles. This is years of trial and error and those are rolls—store-bought—under the towel."

Hermann fishes out a roll, splits it with his knife. "Pardon my sexism, but why didn't Fenella do the cooking?" Pokes butter into the bread.

"Because Fen-fen, bless her little ginger head, tended to get distracted midway through a dish and there'd be smoke, fire, rescue teams, lectures from the police." Edan shrugs, digs in with his spoon. "It saved us a world of bother when I learned."

"Sounds as though it did."

Edan snorts.

They eat.

Dottie joins the feast, crunching her chow.

"Seconds?" asks Edan.

"I'm **stuffed**."

"Cool. That means we'll have a couple of lunches from the rest."

"I'll be the envy of the department when they smell this in the lounge."

Edan beams. "Mum always said I'd make someone a good husband."

"Suppose I'm lucky to have gotten to you first, then."

"You flatter me," says Edan as he stands, gathers the empty bowls and the cutlery, and kisses Hermann's crown on the way to the sink.

"I'll wash while you pack away the remainder," offers Hermann, pushing to his feet.

"Excellent plan."

So that's what they do until the leftovers are in the fridge and the dishware's in the drying rack.

Then they stroll to the big room and ooze down side-by-side on the sofa.

Dottie patters over, hops up onto the blanket spread for her next to Edan, and settles her head in his lap.

He smiles, scratches her ears, grabs his tablet.

"Playing games?"

"I **wish** , but the latest try at using Arecibo to spot exoplanets was published today and I need to see if there's anything salvageable from the hash they made."

Hermann settles his glasses on his nose, picks up his laptop, logs into the student information system. "Exoplanets with a radio telescope? That seems unlikely."

"They had a clever idea, but they muffed the execution badly and recorded a couple dozen hours of rubbish, but it was still a **really** clever idea and I might be able to fix their mistakes and use it."

Hermann hums.

"What're you working on?"

"PAIGE flagged some at-risk-of-failure students in my classes, so I'm reviewing their records to see what can be done for them."

"That is such a cool algorithm you worked out."

" **She** worked out. I asked her to develop it and she did all the work."

"That is soooooo **brilliant**." Edan rests his head on Hermann's shoulder. "Will you give it to my PAIGE so I can use it on my sections this term?"

"I'll send it right now so I don't forget."

"Thank you~!" Nuzzles Hermann's neck. "My fiancé is the smartest fiancé."

" **My** fiancé's brain is certainly nothing to scoff at."

"Still, it's a good thing I can cook, yea?"

"That's a sizable bonus." Hermann shifts, winces, rolls his shoulders.

"The dusters bugging you?"

"I think ...." Sighs, shifts again. "I think I could use some help preening." Glowers at his screen. "The stress seems to have inspired some extra shedding."

"That's no good. You want to get right to it or finish what you're doing first?"

"Finish your article—"

"I don't—"

"—and I'll finish matchmaking students and tutors, then we can move on to mutual grooming."

"Oo! Oo! Can you braid my hair again?"

Hermann's mouth works soundlessly for a moment, then, "Are. You. **Serious**?!"

"What?"

"You looked **ridiculous**! You said so yourself!"

Dottie lifts her head, _thump_ s her tail.

"But the **braiding** bit felt soooooooo niiiiiiiiice." Edan sighs. "It was totally worth the laughter I got the next day."

Hermann forces his attention back to his laptop. "Bonkers. You are absolutely mad."

"So, it's a **really** good thing I'm a quality cook."

"Yes. That's the entire reason I tolerate your presence, _leannan_."

"Thought so," snickers Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Mikhail Kryshen](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kryshen/) [[CC BY-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/kryshen/8712176624/).
> 
> Edan's musical selections this day come from the first album by The Clash, specifically the songs "[Janie Jones](https://youtu.be/kyoW0tf6N-Q)" and "[London's Burning](https://youtu.be/TCw9_avTlYs)".
> 
> I went through this writing period were I couldn't write anything _except_ domestic fluff for these two (or three). I hope it doesn't get too old before I get back to more plot-y stuff.


	101. Chicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spot of mutual grooming and Edan speaks of cabbages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 September 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- Adorable, grey puffballs! #coryrossishere // Elegant, white terror. - 7. (2011 June 10, London-ish) -

Hermann groans, oozes into the mattress.

Edan, astride his hips, scratches fiercely at the base of his left wing. ""Found a good spot, huh?""

"Oh God yes. Keep going."

""Yes, sir!"" Digs in his fingernails, giggles. ""You should **see** the pile of fluff I'm getting out of you. Looks like a chicken exploded.""

"Bloody fuckin' moult."

""It seems worse this year than last.""

Hermann grunts.

""May I move over a smidgen?""

"Go ahead."

Edan inches his hands farther along the wing, gently fluffs the next patch of feathers.

"I blame the London air."

Laughing, Edan attacks the spot.

"What's so funny?"

""I'm **sure** it's the atmosphere and not your new high-stress city lifestyle.""

"I envy how well you're coping."

""I'm a city boy—always had at least a half-million souls for company.""

Hermann sighs.

""What're you thinking?""

"I miss the countryside, the wind in my wings."

Edan hums, cards away some more loose feathers. ""What's it feel like for you? The wind?""

"It's ... every feather is a vibration sensor. I can feel every microcurrent, read the tiniest shift in the drafts."

""That's bloody amazing.""

"I think every neuron that's supposed to be interpreting colour has been re-tasked for it."

""No doubt. It's no wonder you miss it.""

Hermann shrugs.

""I know I'd miss colours if I could only see them on special occasions.""

"What're colours like?"

""It's hard ... I don't know how to explain.""

"Try, please."

Edan takes a deep breath. ""Well, I guess they're like different intensities of light and each intensity carries a meaning and emotion or sensation.""

"Like traffic lights."

""It's more ... subtle than that a lot of the time. Like one shade of blue can be calm but a really similar one makes you feel cold instead.""

"Like the difference between air moved by a person walking and that by a door opening."

There's a smile in Edan's voice as he says, ""I suppose so.""

Hermann smiles, too, pillows his head on his arms. "You can move on with the feathers."

Fluffing and scratching move over another inch.

"How did I get by before I had you?"

""You were ridiculously itchy for a quarter of the year, apparently.""

Hermann snorts a laugh.

Edan rakes his nails across the skin under his secondaries.

Hermann purrs.

""Jesus. A fuckin' chick's-worth just fell out."" Mutters, ""Must've missed this spot last time.""

"I distinctly remember you itching that place."

Scratching stops.

""You're fuckin' with me.""

"No, that spot is always particularly irritating, so I'd notice if it was overlooked."

Scratching resumes.

""I mostly believe you.""

Hermann sniffs.

Scratching continues.

Hermann melts further.

""You know, I've always wondered what you liked like as a wee cabbage.""

"Like any infant—I assume that's your dialect's term for an infant—does, I suppose."

Edan 'pfft's. ""No two babies are alike.""

"Whatever you say."

""I'm pretty curious about what were these were like. Always this gorgeous? Bald?""

"Karla insists they were 'poofy' and white, then half of them fell out and the current type grew in."

""Huh. Don't suppose there are any pictures.""

"Dee had a handful."

""Really? You think he'll let me see them?""

"If they weren't lost in the move, I'm sure he will."

"" **Brilliant.** ""

Another peaceful few moments as Edan moves on to another patch.

""Heard anything new about how Emma's doing?""

"Nothing aside from what Sabine put on her Facebook page."

Edan grunts.

The next area comes under Edan's ministrations.

""Hermann?""

"Hmm?"

""Do you want kids?""

"I can't have children, not with my condition."

""I'm talking about adopting.""

"Ah." Hermann shifts his hips. "I've ... honestly never thought about it." Picks at the duvet. "A child does best with two parents and a stable home. I didn't expect to be able to provide that."

""Well, now you can, so start pondering.""

Hermann chews his lip for a beat, then, "What about you?"

""Hmm? Oh! I've always wanted a tyke or two to spoil.""

Dottie woffles from her cushion at the foot of the bed.

""I'd love you just the same, sugar-pie.""

She huffs.

"You'd like to have children?"

""Yea, and I think I'd do an alright job raising 'em.""

Hermann hums. "You know, you probably would."

""You'd be brilliant, too.""

"I don't know about that."

""Look at the job you've done so far with PAIGE. She's turning out well, yea?""

"You can't program children like you can a computer."

""It's not completely dissimilar. 'sides, you did a lot of work with Bunny and he seems fine.""

"There's quite a bit of difference between a newborn and a few-years-younger brother."

""Which's where my expertise with my baby cousins comes in."" Shifts to a new place, nearer the leading edge. ""I take care until Junior starts toddling, then you join in.""

"I don't think that's how it's supposed to work."

Edan scoffs. ""Who gives a rat's about 'supposed to'? If it works, go with it.""

"That explains so much about your approach to life."

""It works, so I go with it,"" he snickers.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "You're hopeless."

""And you'd be hopelessly itchy without me.""

"I'd be missing out on more than preening."

""Really.""

Hermann tucks his wings tight to his body—

""What're you—?""

—pushes off with his arms and good leg—

Edan, eyes wide, tips—

—twists onto his back.

—flails, squawks, then all but his feet and ankles disappear over the edge of the mattress.

A _thump_ and a _bang_.

""Ow.""

Hermann peers down, dreading the sight.

Edan, wedged between the bed and the wall, rubs the back of his head, sending tiny braids bouncing, winces. "That was meant to be sexy, yea?"

Hermann, face on absolute fire, nods.

"I love the idea, but if ye warn me next time, I can help aim and save some delay and embarrassment."

"O-okay?"

Edan grins. "Gimme a hand up so we can try again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [quapan](https://www.flickr.com/photos/hinkelstone/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) ] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/hinkelstone/7205167442/).
> 
> I'm one of those writers who feels like the characters are leading them around rather than pushing the characters to do what they want, right? I find myself continually floored by how Edan takes everything about Hermann in stride and normalizes everything for him. Yearly moults? Extra sensory organs? Adopting kids? All just part of life for them as far as Edan's concerned.


	102. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama in Edan's family has he and Hermann discussing possible housemates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 September 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1369.jpg [Window of Glasgow-bound train, somewhere in Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann, on the sofa, codes.

Dottie, on the rug, sleeps.

PAIGE, in the laptop and mobile backgrounds, syncs.

Edan, in his blob chair, reads.

Hermann clicks.

Dottie whuffles.

PAIGE whirs.

Edan's mobile sings; fumbly noises as he answers.

""Kris ... what ... slow down ... **take a deep breath, mate**.""

Hermann looks over his screen and glasses.

Edan pushes upright, chair _shush_ ing. "Alright ... okay ... it'll be alright. What do you have on you?"

Hermann pushes his glasses onto his forehead.

"Get yourself outta the rain soon as you can. I'm gonna call my dad, get him or Mum or Fen-fen to come get you, alright?"

His heart sinks.

"We'll get you through this, alright? Keep warmish and hold on. One of us'll ring you right back."

Sinks further.

"You're welcome. Hold on, it'll be alright." Edan pokes the mobile.

"What's happened?"

"The inevitable."

"What does that—"

Edan gestures for quiet. "Dad, Andrew just threw Kris outta the house."

Hermann grimaces.

"Only his mobile and the clothes on his back."

Shudders.

"Yea. Can you help?"

Takes a deep breath.

"It's—" Edan rattles off a number.

Exhales.

"He busted in on him and his friend Lewis mid-shag."

Cringes.

Edan laughs. "Thanks, Dad, but don't get yourself done over him."

Rolls tension from his shoulders.

"Thanks again, Dad. Love ye." Edan disconnects, flops back again, addresses the ceiling, "That took less time than I expected."

"I take it Kris has been dragged out of the closet?"

"Yea, Andrew kicked in the door and tossed him out." Sighs. "Literally."

"I thought that only happened in movies."

"'pparently not. Marched him outta the house into a gale and locked up behind him."

"Good Lord."

"'least Andrew's a man of his word?"

"Are you **seriously** trying to find a silver lining in this?"

"Yes? I mean ... what else **can** I do?" Waves his hands. "I've already done everything I can from here. It's down to the fam now."

His mobile _chirp_ s and he thumbs it on immediately. Exhales. "Dad's got a car going 'round to get him, Mum's making up my old room, and Fen-fen's collecting kit for him."

"Sounds like the worst is over."

"Except for the, you know, lingering psychological trauma of being rejected by the people supposed to protect you."

Hermann slumps, mumbles, "That will, eventually, hurt less."

Edan lifts his head, smiles reassurance. "That's good."

Hermann smiles back.

Edan picks up his photocopies, shifts into a comfortable reading posture, focuses on the paper.

Hermann settles his glasses back on his nose, reorients himself to the new module.

Dottie stands, stretches, yawns, and clicks out.

Edan flips a page.

Hermann shuffles his wings, types another line of code.

Then another.

Then five more.

""Hermann?""

"Hmm?"

""What about asking Kris to move in with us?""

Hermann closes his laptop. "His parents will emancipate him after this?"

"No need: he turned sixteen last week."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Age of majority in Scotland's different. He's an adult. He passed his exams in the spring, too, so." Shrugs.

"Ah." Hermann chews his lip. "I don't know if we can support another person on my income at city prices." Lips twitch into a smile. "Especially not the way an average sixteen-year-old eats."

"Maybe I can pick up some hours somewhere."

"You're not sleeping enough as is."

"We **could** ask my family to chip in."

"Couldn't your family give him a place to stay?"

"They've already got Fen-fen with them, but ... I **suppose** they could."

"Why are you so hesitant?"

"Because I—" Huffs. "Because I feel like **I** should be the one to help him, 'coz I'm his big brother." Fluffs his hair. "Because I'm his **gay** big brother and I've lived through a lotta what's happening to him now—minus the being chucked out bit—but—well, kinda like you and Dee stepped up to help Bunny when your dad ...." Sighs to a stop.

Hermann takes a deep breath. "I understand the impulse, but, I admit, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of Kris—or anyone aside from Bastien—joining us."

"Oh. Right. Dusters aren't for general knowledge." Sags. "You'd have to go back to tight binding around the house if he was here."

"Yes."

"I definitely don't want that."

"Thank you for understanding," says Hermann gently.

Edan acknowledges with a faint smile.

Hermann puts as much love as he can into his.

Edan lets his eyes fall shut, mutters, "I shoulda asked Trinity to push Andrew in front of a train."

"That would only've changed the timing of Kris' need for a new home and landed Trinity in prison."

"Must you **insist** on being right?"

"I must when I'm right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Sofia Gk](https://www.flickr.com/photos/sofiagk/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/sofiagk/3337276659/).
> 
> Finally something that looks a little more like plot, though it's still largely a look at the relationship dynamics between our two stars.


	103. Open Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Hermann's life as a university professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11 October 2011  
> Kensington, London, England, United Kingdom

\- London, August 2025 — Raleigh B. -

Hermann leans over his desk, shifts his wings under his binder, rolls his shoulders. He straightens, wings still pinched, checks the clock, and sighs, "Another bloody hour."

He sits back, drags his attention to PAIGE.

 **hermann_g:** Please check for changes in the at-risk students list and inform me.

 **PAIGE:** Mr Hopkins and Ms Bradley must score at least 90% on the next assignment to remain in good standing, while Mr Kirby will be removed with a score above 70%.

 **PAIGE:** All three are enrolled in 101.

 **hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next?

 **hermann_g:** Please compare Ms Marsden's posted schedule with those of Hopkins and Bradley and send a list of overlapping open 60-minute blocks to my email.

 **PAIGE:** Email sent.

 **hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

 **PAIGE:** What shall I do next?

 **hermann_g:** Please compare my lecture notes for 101 with the test questions for Unit 3 used by other instructors over the past 4 semesters and compile a list of questions which cover similar material and send it to my email.

 **PAIGE:** This will take a moment. Please be patient.

 **hermann_g:** Please, when you have finished, put yourself in research mode until I shut down this machine.

 **PAIGE:** Yes, sir.

Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his forehead, rubs his eyes.

A knock at the open doorway.

""Doctor Gottlieb?""

"Come in, Ms Marsden." He nudges his glasses farther up, swivels his chair to face her.

She smiles, waves. "Sorry to pry you away from working with your little girl."

"My what?"

"That's PAIGE, right? Your silicon daughter?"

Hermann sighs fondly, "You and Edan."

"Who's that?"

"My fian—partner."

"Omigosh, you're engaged?! That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

Hermann feels a flush creep up his face, mumbles, "Thank you." Clears his throat. "Since I have you, there are two more one-ought-one students in need of assistance, if you desire more tutoring work."

"I can always use the extra fees. Who'm I looking at?"

"Mr Hopkins and Ms Bradley."

Marsden sighs.

"Is there a problem?"

"Hopkins will never agree to work with me, the sexist bastard."

Hermann frowns. "He'll just have to muddle through on his own, then."

She snickers. "Have I mentioned you're my favourite professor ever and not just because we're the same age?"

He ducks his head—

His glasses fall, clattering onto the keyboard.

—scrabbles for them, mumbles, "Thank you, Ms Marsden."

"Puh-lease call me 'Olivia', Doctor. No need to be so formal."

Hermann takes a moment fold his glasses and set them safely aside. "I'm more comfortable using your surname, not because I wish to be unfriendly, but because it shows you the respect you deserve for the job you do."

Marsden tilts her head. "Sooooo, if we were to bump into each other on the town, you'd call me Olivia?"

"Yes, I would, because then we'd be two friends meeting on a social occasion." He offers a crooked smile.

"Good to know." Marsden beams. "Have a good afternoon, Doctor."

"You, too, Ms Marsden."

She heads out.

Hermann shifts in his seat, scratching at the edge of his binding. On go the glasses and he opens PAIGE's next module, takes a moment to reorient himself to her coding, and begins keying the next part of the script to integrate Dixon's facial recognition routine with his pattern-finder.

Seventy or so lines pass.

A knock at the open doorway.

Hermann stays focused on his screen, calls, "Come in."

""Would you believe—""

He spins to Edan, smiling.

"—they made me leave Dottie at the security desk?" Shakes his head. "I was hoping she could spread a little sunshine in this dreadfully serious place." Drops his satchel on the floor, sprawls into the guest chair.

Hermann puts his glasses away. "You're sunshine enough."

Edan scoffs, still beaming.

"I thought you had a seminar?"

"Coen has food poisoning and canceled it." Shrugs. "Ate some dodgy octopus apparently."

Hermann wrinkles his nose.

"'Never eat something smarter than you', my father always says."

"Sound advice."

"'s why I stick to chicken and vegetables."

"You ate a kebab yesterday."

Edan straightens, puffs up, fighting to keep a straight face. "Hey! I'm smarter than a kebab!"

"Of course you are," smirks Hermann.

"Don't go putting on airs because you've got an office to yourself and a few extra letters around your name."

"You'll be here soon enough."

"I'm here right now," Edan snickers.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"And I do believe your open hours have just come to a close, so we can both be elsewhere."

"We can go as soon as I shut down and clear up a bit."

"Brilliant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Emily Webber](https://www.flickr.com/photos/emilywebber/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/emilywebber/3169989834/in/photolist-5Q82x9-wCr2q-6rUyHN-8EVNyZ-6BMz9o-7c3Dgt-4NMiWX-4HLeHd-4v9wHy-7UTxgX-6cx81w-4fCNnX-hP8mS-je3BPe-7TerSz-4U1Nkx-EYFFJ-6mZCS3-aqgJBB-8kJuUK-7JuFj9-9Cpvp-e3LCPX-cszvRA-cszx5q-jtavLn-cszwXG-c2raLN-6vm8Xn-cszvKs-5HQaxs-nFSMK-8CCXkf-bucXTN-dG4qCa-5CyJMb-FEEF5x-9PCg1-7eN2Tc-8A1CF2-4v9g87-6jcF64-eZkhpa-4akbkn-4U1P4H-fM9ixE-9VptZc-66Lbtx-6dzhnD-8nr1WE).
> 
> I'm rather proud of Hermann's time management here. He's got PAIGE doing the most tedious tasks, freeing his teaching assistant to do one-on-one work with students having difficulty and himself to work on his research.
> 
> Can (dead, cooked) octopus go bad? I don't know, but I liked the joke too much to do actual research on the off chance it can't. Or maybe Edan's just wrong about the sea creature involved.


	104. Doubled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann coaxes Edan out of a bad mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 October 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1645.jpg [Sky over Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Hermann whistles "I Feel Alright" as he steps out of the lift and to their flat's door. He's through it, divested himself of all his gear, and into his slippers before he reaches the second verse. "Edan?"

Silence.

As he hangs his keys on the hook, he notes Dottie's lead is gone and heads to the kitchen.

A note waits for him on the fridge:

\- Help yourself to tea ☺ -

Hermann smiles, pours a cuppa, adds the waiting slice of lemon, sips.

Perfect.

Back to the foyer, bag over his shoulder, a shuffle to the big room and the sofa, tea on the side table, laptop out of satchel, satchel next to the couch, laptop open and booting, glasses on his nose, tea back in hand.

Hermann sighs.

PAIGE opens.

**PAIGE:** Good evening, Hermann.

**PAIGE:** I have completed scoring the short answer exam and have input the marks to the course management system.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** You're welcome.

**PAIGE:** What shall I do next?

**hermann_g:** Has there been any change to the at-risk student list?

**PAIGE:** There are no additions and one student has moved to within the receipt of half-credit on their exam essay of being removed.

**hermann_g:** That is most excellent news.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** You're welcome.

**PAIGE:** What shall I do next?

**hermann_g:** Please put yourself in research mode until battery life falls to 50%.

**PAIGE:** Yes, sir.

**hermann_g:** Thank you, Paige.

**PAIGE:** Entering research mode.

Hermann minimizes PAIGE's window, logs into the testing server, navigates to today's exam, and isolates the essays.

Keys rattle in the lock.

He listens as Dottie bounces in, bells jingling.

A beat later, Edan's shoes hit the mat with dull thuds.

Hermann's heart aches a bit, so he puts some cheer into his voice and calls, "Welcome home, _leannan_."

""Hey, Hermann.""

Hermann inhales deeply and focuses on the first of the essays.

Clattering from the kitchen, then a _kresh_.

Dottie sprints in, leaps onto her spot on the couch, curls up.

A string of Scots profanity.

"Oh dear." Hermann sets his laptop aside, heaves himself to his feet, hobbles to the kitchen.

Edan glares at the floor, fists tight and shaking.

"Let me sweep this up."

"It's my fault. I'll deal with it." Edan crouches, gathers shattered bits of plate into a pile. "This day has been total and complete **shit**."

Hermann retrieves the brush and dustpan from the cupboard, limps back to Edan's side, offers them.

"Thanks." He accepts, then nudges the smallest fragments into the pan with the brush, shifts the bigger ones with his hands. He straightens, dumps the lot in the bin and sighs.

"Do you want to talk about your day?"

"After I rescue the lasagna, maybe." He grabs mitts, extracts a tray of **delicious** from the oven, deposits it on a trivet next to the stove.

Hermann hovers just off his shoulder, filling his lungs with the smell of hot cheese and tomatoes.

Edan steps back—

Hermann squeaks, flails, sits down hard on the floor.

—yells, " **Goddammit!** " Goes pale and to his knees beside Hermann. "I'm **so** sorry! I didn't—I wasn't—are you alright?"

Hermann grimaces. "I'm not damaged, only surprised by the sudden change in altitude."

Edan runs a hand through his hair. "Just when I thought I couldn't make this day any worse."

"It's fine; help me up, please."

"Su-sure." Edan gets an arm around Hermann's back and lifts from under his arms.

Hermann runs a quick diagnostic. "I'm alright: nothing a good meal can't make better."

"Thank **God**." Stays glued to Hermann's side until he's safely in his seat. "I'll get the feed together. Post is there, if you want reading material."

Hermann shuffles credit card applications and assorted fliers, then smiles. "No bills."

" **There's** something good for my day."

Hermann stacks the junk neatly for recycling. "What happened?"

Edan takes a measured breath. "I've got three impending failures in my 'astronomy for the uninformed' lab and they've told Houghton it's **my** fault, so I got hauled into his office to defend myself." Edan brings over a loaded plate—salad from the fridge, lasagna, a roll—and a glass of water. "He decided the problem was **my** **teaching** and not the fact those spanners spend the entirety of the lecture **and** lab twittering at each other."

Hermann hums in sympathy as Edan stomps off to assemble his meal.

" **Then** Coen called me in and in-fucking- **sisted** my idea for using fluctuations in gravity and ionization to target searches for possible exoplanets wasn't going to work." He collapses into his chair with his plate. "It **will** work and I just need his permission to use the data archive that'll prove it."

"He won't give you access?"

"He doesn't 'want me to waste my time'."

Hermann frowns. "Your hypothesis is sound."

"Thanks, but **I** **know**." Stabs his lasagna, glowers at it, grumbles, "I **am** smarter than a fuckin' kebab."

Hermann winces.

Edan cringes, murmurs, "Sorry. I didn't mean—" Sighs. "I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut the rest of the night."

Hermann waves it off.

A mobile _shimmer_ s.

"That you or me?"

"I believe that's you."

Edan grunts, fishes it from his pocket, thumbs it awake, and squees.

"Good news?"

"Kris **finally** gave in and sent a selfie."

"May I see it?"

Edan offers the phone.

Hermann glances, double-takes. "He looks **exactly** like you."

Edan, apparently fully recovered, grins. "Uncanny, isn't it? Annie must have some **seriously** dominant genes."

"That or—" Hermann clears his throat. "—she volunteered for a cloning experiment."

Edan cocks his head. "So we'd be **twins**?"

Hermann nods.

"That'd be so **cool**!" Dances in his seat. "I'm gonna start calling him 'Dolly'!"

Hermann forces a weak chuckle. "I'm—I'm sure he will find the humour in that."

"You alright? Something wrong with the food?"

"No, no! It's fine. It's just—" Brightens. "The idea of there being two of you in this world scared me a bit."

Edan scoffs. "It'd be good for the world to love me more."

Hermann smiles, for real this time. "On reflection, maybe the world **could** use another of you."

"Oh?"

"If there was another, I wouldn't have to share **you** with anyone."

"I **would** like someone else to deal with Houghton and the twits."

Hermann grins. "That sounds like an excellent name for a band."

Edan blinks, snickers.

"Going to add that to the list of possibilities?"

"Yea, **definitely**." Queues up a forkful of lettuce. "Maybe I'll be able to settle on one by the time I have something I'm willing to show off." Frowns, thoughtful. "Make that 'show off when I'm sober'."

"You'll be ready in no time."

"Why d'you say that?"

"You're already down to three-quarters of a cider before playing for me."

"Well, sure, but you're easy. For example, you're not gonna lob beer bottles at my head."

"I'm certainly not. I love your brain too much to risk it." Pecks his cheek.

"Aww ... thanks." A kiss of his own. "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [StefanSzczelkun](https://www.flickr.com/photos/stefan-szczelkun/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/stefan-szczelkun/6056594814/in/photolist-bQJZeg-2Dzt8u-faKLdu-bBQhDb-bQJZ3R-rwdEg-a8gfAV-aecCCw-4a7GGQ-5n8cu4-r5ShTA-bR7Zq8-4WRgBF).
> 
> Hermann's song of choice is The Damned's version of Iggy Pop's "[I Feel Alright](https://youtu.be/l-jVvuGlDr8)". (I should make a playlist of some kind outta these, shouldn't I?)
> 
> Even Edan "Sunshine" Reid has bad days.


	105. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Edan start planning a wedding and discuss baby names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 November 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1526.jpg [Tartan fabric swatches, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan wiggles over, presses himself tight to Hermann's side, drapes an arm across his back beneath his wings, and sighs happily.

Hermann smiles, eeeeeeases a wing across Edan's shoulders.

Edan exhales a deep breath he must've been holding.

"Relax, dear. I save tickling for special occasions."

""Sadis',"" Edan mumbles against his neck.

"Is **this** a special occasion?"

A beat as Edan searches his memory.

""'s Sain' Andrew day.""

"Which means what, exactly?"

""'ank 'oliday.""

"Not in this country."

""So? 'm S'ottish.""

"You're also mostly asleep."

""An' you know 'ow t'wake me up.""

"Coffee?"

Edan 'pfft's.

"Ohhh ... you mean the **other** way to wake you up."

""Mmhmm ....""

Hermann hums, pushes to lie on his side, tucks his wings to his back.

Edan shifts his hand to Hermann's waist, hums into a deep kiss.

In answer, Hermann presses their hips together and tangles his fingers in Edan's hair.

 

* * *

 

After they finish and a leisurely shower, Hermann saunters to the big room—wings loose beneath his baggiest t-shirt and knee flexing almost properly after the hot water—to wait for Edan to finish his washing up.

Dottie meets him at the door, tail wagging and bells jingling, and woffles.

"Do you want a change of clothes?"

She _whuff_ s and bows.

"Please bring a cape."

She bounds off to the bedroom as Hermann settles himself in his favourite armchair.

Dottie trots in, a triangle of dark fabric in her mouth.

"Thank you. Please give."

She drops it in his extended hand.

"Thank you." He checks the attached tag. "Hmm ... 'garnet'. I'm told this is **especially** pretty with your eyes."

Dottie noses his hand, wiggles.

He smiles, unsnaps the current cape ('fuchsia') from her collar and fastens the fresh one in its place. "There you go, Dottie. You look lovely."

She pants happily, gives Hermann's face an enthusiastic lick, then spins and races for the kitchen.

Hermann shakes his head fondly, settles back into the chair, checks his email with his mobile and skims the news items PAIGE flagged for his attention.

Dottie pads in, hops onto her blanket, curls up, yawns.

A few minutes later, Edan returns, hair still damp, sits on the sofa next to Dottie, and announces, "We need t'talk wedding."

"What about it?"

"A little thing called ' **actually** planning it'?"

"Oh, right." Hermann chews his lip. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Do I **ever**!" Sits straighter, beaming. "I humbly suggest we make official the union of our lives in Glasgow during the Olympics this coming summer."

"I understand and approve of the 'where', but why that 'then'?"

"Gets us far, far away from the shitshow this town'll be."

"Very good point."

" **If** we take some time to prepare beforehand at my old homestead and then a leisurely honeymoon, we can miss the entire fucking thing."

"I wholeheartedly support this plan."

Edan beams—

"But—"

—dims.

"—we need to pick a specific date."

Edan consults his mobile. "Umm ... how about the sixth of August? It's a Monday and a bank holiday, so all the Brits could come without losing a day's work."

"Wouldn't that mean the government offices we need would be closed, as well?"

" **Shit.** "

"We could sign the paperwork on Friday the third and have the celebration on Monday?"

"My fiancé is the smartest fiancé," coos Edan.

Hermann clears his throat. "So, we have a date and a general place ...."

"Trinity wants to pick the places and the décor."

"She can **have** it," declares Hermann.

"I'll make her day, then." Edan taps at his mobile.

"What about attire? Or is that part of Trinity's domain?"

"I, uh, think that's us. So ... casual?"

"What about Highland dress?"

"Oh **God** no."

Hermann queries.

"That sort of kit's **expensive**." Grimaces. "Not to mention my skinny little legs and knobby knees would look positively **ridiculous**. I'll stick to jacket and tie, for everyone's sake."

"I'd still like to see you in a kilt at least once."

"In your dreams maybe."

"You're telling me a proud Scotsman such as yourself has never worn a kilt."

Edan cocks an eyebrow. "You ever worn _lederhosen_?"

Hermann smiles. "Point taken."

Edan sniffs, glances at his phone. "Aaaaaand Trini's apparently a sentient cloud of sparkles."

"Hopefully, she can complete her mission in that state."

"I have no doubts she will."

"Good. Still ... I'm curious. What does the Clan Reid tartan look like?"

"Dunno. Lemme check."

"You don't know offhand?"

"Uh, no?" Thumbs away. "We've never really bothered with that sorta thing. So I'm asking PAIGE."

"Why don't you use a regular search engine? They're faster?"

"Because she **likes** to he—whoa."

"What?"

"Information overload. We're, uh—stop sending stuff, girl—Clan Reid isn't, apparently, a full-fledged Clan. It's a 'sept' of Clann Dònnchaidh—that's Robertson. So Reids'd wear Dònnchaidh tartan." Swipes. "Which is rather attractive, if I do say so myself."

Hermann catches the mobile Edan tosses over. "That isn't bad at all. Might clash a bit with your colouring, though." Reads a bit more, then glances up, smiling and with eyebrow raised. "Did you happen to notice the names of some of your fellow septs?"

"Enlighten me."

"Let's see now ... there's Duncan and Collier and Stark—"

"Like, ' _A Game of Thrones_ ' Stark?"

"Yes.

" **Coooool.** "

"Don't all the Starks die?"

"Doesn't **everyone** die in those books?"

"Another point taken." Hermann clears his throat. "There's also the MacIvers."

Edan blinks, the breaks into a gigantic smile. "That explains why all the crews want my dad. Duct tape, gum, a Swiss army knife and it's sorted."

"Considering what your father does for a living, that is more frightening than comforting."

"Think of it this way: if something **does** go horribly wrong, he can hold it together until the real experts and parts to get there."

"You're right; that **is** comforting."

"Good. If you're done, I'll have that back."

Hermann lobs the mobile.

Edan fumbles it into his lap, recovers, types. "For the record, I'm asking Bunny if he'll make tartan outfits for Mandy, Lupe, and Dottie if I send him some fabric."

"Ask him if he'll make you a necktie and pocket square, too."

"As a compromise on Highland kit?"

"Mhm."

"Brilliant." Sets the phone aside. "Done."

"You know, I think Mandy and Dottie have more outfits than you do."

"Of **course** they do! They're young ladies and society'll judge them harshly if they're not flawlessly put together every day."

"You must be the only man on Earth who would justify dressing a paver, a toy, and a dog by citing sexism."

Edan preens. "What can I say? I'm a progressive sort."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

"On the topic of progress toward true gender equality, should we hyphenate? Merge surnames? Pick a new one? Take each other's?"

"We've both already published under our current names, so it'd be best for our careers to leave them as is."

"Yeaaaa ... suppose you're right." Fluffs his hair. "There's just something **romantic** about sharing a name, yea?"

"Hmm ... then why don't you take my name?"

"'Edan Gottlieb' ... hmm ...." Frowns. "It just doesn't have much of a 'ring', does it?"

"It doesn't, but 'Hermann Gottlieb' is slightly more pleasant to the ear than 'Hermann Reid'."

"Our original names it is," sighs Edan.

"If it will make you feel better, we can hyphenate Dottie's surname."

"We can?" Edan's voice breaks.

Hermann can't help but melt a little. "Yes, we can."

Edan squeals and flutter kicks—

Dottie lifts her head, wags her tail nervously.

"You have limited dignity for a twenty-something."

—laughs. "I don't care~! Everyone's gonna know little Peridot Guinevere Gottlieb-Reid is our daughter~!"

"Since when does she have a middle name?"

"Since I said so."

"Just now?"

"Just now."

Hermann gazes heavenward. "Why did I even ask?"

"Because you're still trying to figure out how my brain works."

"I'm beginning to doubt I ever will."

"It's taken **this** long to realize that?"

Hermann flings a pillow.

"Ooof! Oi!"

" _wuff_ ," scolds Dottie.

Edan scowls, tucks it behind his back.

"Apologies, Peridot Guinevere Gottlieb-Reid."

Dottie settles down.

Edan clears his throat.

"What inspired 'Guinevere'?"

Edan crosses his arms.

Hermann bats his eyelashes.

Edan huffs spectacularly. "I'll have you know 'Guinevere' has **always** been near the top of my list of names for hypothetical daughters." Grins. "Dottie looks like one, too."

"How does one 'look like' any sort of name?"

"Dunno exactly, but you know when you see a name that fits—or doesn't."

Hermann raises an eyebrow.

"I was supposed to 'Ewan' after all, but Annie and Dad decided I looked nothing like an 'Ewan' and gave me a handle they thought **did** fit."

"By changing a single letter."

"'s all it took." Gestures vaguely. "I mean, all it took your mum was a single letter to make Bunny's name all French and posh and mysteriously not-German."

Hermann concedes with a grunt.

"Before you start asking why there's a Welsh name on the list when I'm oh-so-wonderfully Scottish—"

Hermann rolls his eyes again.

"—there're enough traditional names in my family. It's time for a change."

"By picking the name of a legendary ancient queen."

"Yep!"

Hermann does. not. sigh. "So what's the top boy's name?"

"'Arthur'."

Hermann face-palms so hard it stings.

Edan sounds hurt: "You don't like it?"

"It's fine. It's just ... Arthur and Guinevere." Waves in frustration. "How much more traditionally British can you **be**?"

"They're not traditional in my family **or** traditionally **Scottish**."

"You ... you are beyond hope."

Edan sprawls, smug.

Hermann sighs.

"Right ... what else do we need to plan?"

"Guest list?"

"Guest list," groans Edan. "Our families are too complicated for this."

"It still has to be done."

Edan sulks.

"I'll start?"

"Fiiiiiiiiiine."

Hermann rummages on the coffee table, comes up with an envelope and a pen. "Dietrich, Sabine, and Emma. Bastien. Karla. My grandparents." Taps pen against paper. "I ... think that's everyone."

"Your dad?"

Hermann wrinkles his nose. "He'd never come."

Edan twinkles. "Then it wouldn't hurt to invite him, yea? Make us look like the bigger men."

Hermann smirks. "My father, too, then. Your turn."

"Kris, Mum, Dad, Fen-fen, Trinity, Cal and Mal, the crew and the cousins—I'll write 'em in later—Iggy, Rhys .... I suppose I should invite Annie for the same reason we're asking your dad ...."

"Won't she use her 'plus one' to bring Kris' father?"

"Andrew Swan attend a **gay** wedding?" Clutches his heart. "Never!"

"What **was** I thinking?"

"I have **no** idea."

Hermann snorts, scans the list. "This doesn't seem too overwhelming a group."

"You haven't met Mal, Cal, and Twenty-one yet. They're a riot-with-property-damage all on their own. **Especially** when you put 'em together."

"This will definitely be a memorable event."

" **Definitely.** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image cropped from a photo by [Gitta Zahn](https://www.flickr.com/photos/gittaz/) [[CC BY 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/gittaz/14836455391/).
> 
> This would another example of Edan escaping whatever control I normally have of him and turning chapter into a fluffy, adorkable mess.
> 
> St. Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland—and national flag is St. Andrew's cross—and his feast day is indeed a bank holiday (November 30) there.
> 
> Yes, I did research Scottish clans and [everything PAIGE reports (through Edan)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clan_Donnachaidh) is accurate as far as I can tell. [The Clan Donnachaidh tartan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clan_Donnachaidh#/media/File:Kilt_stitching_001.jpg) is indeed a rather attractive one.


	106. Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PAIGE takes a developmental step forward, pleasing Hermann and scaring the heck out of Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 December 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- we're in! (12/07/19, Sydney) -

Edan's slippered footsteps stop at the office door as Hermann tries to find the words to properly skewer Dixon's complete misunderstanding of intelligent agents like PAIGE.

""Hermann?""

He grunts.

""Was I drunk last night?""

"You were vertical and coherent before noon, so, no, you weren't." Stabs a sentence into the keyboard.

""Did you do anything with my laptop?""

Hermann spins his desk chair, faces him, eyebrow up. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Because there's a copy of that gravity archive I was telling you about—Coen's—on there and I don't know why.""

"You've wanted that for a while. What's the problem?"

"I didn't download it? And Coen **definitely** didn't give me permission to download it?"

"That's ... odd. You're sure it's Coen's data and that he didn't change his mind?"

Edan scoffs. "Doctor David Coen **never** changes his mind 'coz he's always right in the first place and his name is literally all over this."

"Bring it here and I'll see if I can figure out what's going on from the logs."

Edan hustles off and's back a moment later cradling the device.

Hermann takes it, turns back to the desk, heads to the command line, pokes around. Frowns.

"So?"

"Everything here's in order. No one's broken into this machine."

"Is it haunted or something?"

"'Or something'."

"What kind of 'something' do you suspect?"

"No idea yet." Pokes a bit deeper. "It looks like you woke up your laptop with your mobile remote desktop app."

"Oh, I do that all the time."

"At four in the morning?"

"Yeaaaaaaa ... not my m.o."

Hermann chews his lip. "Then someone used your laptop to log on to a secure server using ... Coen's password?"

"Did **Coen** break into my machine?"

"I've already said no one broke in. Bring me your mobile."

Edan's gone and back in a flash.

Hermann taps and swipes through menus and settings. "No one compromised this either."

"Which means?"

"Which means whoever downloaded the archive had physical access to this phone at four this morning."

"Which would be you, me, and Dottie."

"This doesn't make **any** sense," mutters Hermann.

Edan shifts his feet.

Hermann drums his fingers on the desktop.

" **PAIGE!** PAIGE can use the mobile to start the laptop!"

"But why—" Whirls. "What did you do to her?!"

Edan jazz-hands. "I didn't—" Shuts his mouth with a snap. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

"Reid." Hermann steels himself. "What. Happened."

"I've, uh, been spending my commutes trying to teach her how to, um, anticipate my needs? Sorta expand on your gift selection algorithm?"

Hermann's heart flutters.

"She must've read all my texts whining about Coen and how I needed his archive for my research—" Blinks rapidly, eyes wide and shiny. "—and decided to 'help'."

"But how did she get Coen's password? Phishing? Hacking his email? Brute force? Some sort of al—"

"Not the point!"

"I need to doc—"

"Hermann! It looks like I've broken into my doctoral advisor's computer and stolen research data!"

Hermann blinks. "But you haven't."

"You think that **matters**?!" Edan squeals. "What'm I supposed to say? 'The copy of Professor Gottlieb's baby AI that lives in my mobile, of her own volition, logged in as you and downloaded the data you **expressly** forbade me to touch to my laptop because she wanted to be helpful'?"

"It's the truth?" Hermann shrugs.

Edan folds to the floor, hugs his knees to his chest, hides his face, wails, ""I'm getting kicked out of the program!""

"I'm sure we can figure something out."

Edan emits a high-pitched, hopeless whine.

Hermann picks up his own mobile. "I'll call Dr Coen and explain my experimental AI broke containment and compromised his machine after finding his contact in your address book."

""How're you gonna explain why she only took the gravity data?""

"She was pulling files at random and I stopped her before she could misappropriate anything further."

""That **might** work.""

"Of course, it'll work. If my daughter can hack a server, I can certainly hack a fellow professor."

""I sure hope so.""

"Trust me, _leannan_."

""I do,"" sighs Edan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Chris Messina](https://www.flickr.com/photos/factoryjoe/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/factoryjoe/2493180632/).
> 
> Our first story of AI mayhem!
> 
> Rest assured that Hermann's charms work and Edan is allowed to stay in school _and_ keep the data PAIGE stole.


	107. House Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann falls and breaks his arm; Edan is desperate to get medical help for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23 December 2011  
> Battersea, London, England, United Kingdom

\- _IMG_1729.jpg [Ice cream kiosk, Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom; recovered by 007] -

Edan hunches, Hermann's arm thrown across his shoulders and his cane tucked under his arm. "I'm lucky you're so light."

Hermann snorts. "If I wasn't so light, I wouldn't be—" Hisses as a lurching step jostles his right arm.

Edan winces. "Do you want to—"

"Keep. Going."

"If you're sure—"

" **Yes.** "

"I'd feel better if—"

" **No.** No hospital."

"But—"

"I love you but fucking do what I say." He squeezes his eyes shut. "Please."

Edan swallows. "Sorry." Resumes their shuffle for the flat.

The last half-block takes an absolute **age** , but they make it and Edan manages to the lock and the lobby and the lift and the hall and the lock and their shoes and the hall to the bedroom.

Hermann, pale and sweating, eases down to the mattress, then flat onto his back, arm stiff at his side.

Edan hovers, runs a hand through his hair. "Let's have a look at it."

"It's broken. There's nothing to see."

"But—"

"There's nothing. I can't go to hospital, be x-rayed."

"But—"

" **No.** "

"I can't just **leave** you like this!"

"You have to."

"At—at least let me look at it."

Hermann sighs, lets his eyes fall shut. "Fine."

"Thank you, _leannan_." Frowns at Hermann's layers. "I'm going to have to cut you out of this, aren't I."

Hermann grunts.

"I'll be right back." Edan flies to the office, zips back with the scissors.

Hermann keeps lying there, breathing shallow.

Edan carefully cuts along the center of the outer jumper sleeve, then the inner, then through Hermann's shirt. He peels the layers away, revealing a pale arm going purple from a spot just off-center.

No bone, no blood, thank God.

"You've got a great, ugly bruise."

"Displaced, then," croaks Hermann.

"We have to—"

" **No.** "

"But—"

Hermann sighs. "Call Dietrich. He'll help."

"I'll be right back. Don't move."

"As if I would."

Edan dives into the office, fumbles his way through his contacts, connects to Dietrich, flutters as it rings through.

""Edan? What's—""

"Hermann went down on ice and I think his arm is broken—it's gone all purple and swelling—but I can't get him to go to A and E have it seen to—" Gasps. "—or call an ambu—"

""Edan, take a deep breath.""

He does.

""Get a notepad and pencil. I'm going to give you a number to call for help, okay?""

"A-alright." Edan fumbles some scrap paper and a pen over. "Go."

Dee reads out a phone number, a foreign one.

"What's—"

""It's best not to ask questions about these people.""

Edan swallows. "A-alright."

""Call them, do what they say, don't ask questions, and don't leave Hermann alone with them. Understand?""

"Y-yea." Swallows again, stomach dropping. "I'll do that right now."

""Good. Until they get to you, keep Manny as comfortable as possible without letting him take any extra pills. Put ice on the swelling, give him water to drink if he wants anything.""

"Will do. Thanks."

""You're welcome."" A deep breath. ""It'll be alright.""

"Right. Thanks." Edan stabs 'end', takes a deep breath, types in the new number, connects.

««Who is this?»» demands a male voice.

«Edan Reid. I'm calling for Hermann Gottlieb.»

««Ah. Apologies for my rudeness. How may I assist Mr Gottlieb?»»

«He fell and busted his arm and needs it seen to but won't go to hospital and his brother said—»

««I'm organizing treatment now. A moment, please.»»

Edan swallows, waits, tapping a foot.

««You are at your Battersea address, yes?»»

His stomach goes funnier. «Y-yea.»

««A medic will be with you within the half-hour, Mr Reid.»»

«Thank you.»

««We are here to assist.»»

The mobile chimes.

Edan swallows, puts his shoulders back, dives into the kitchen, dumps ice from the freezer into a plastic bag, nabs a tea towel, races to the bedroom.

Hermann lies there, absently rubbing Dottie's ears.

She twitches her ears forward, expression hopeful.

"You're not allowed on the bed—"

Dottie looks mournful.

"—but I'll make an exception."

Dottie thumps her tail against the pillow.

"Dietrich says to put ice on it." Edan wraps the ice in the towel places it on the bed next to the purplest point.

"You need to set it on my arm if you want it to do any good."

"Won't that hurt?"

"Only 'til it goes numb."

" **Jesus.** "

"Just do it."

Edan resettles—

Hermann hisses.

—grits his teeth, positions the thing, straightens, shifts his feet.

"It's already a little better."

"Thank God." Deep breath. "Can I get you anything—except drugs? Water?"

"I'm fine. The best thing is to let me lie here a bit."

"I can do that." He pulls over the chair, perches.

They rest like that a while.

"How's the ice doing?"

"Holding out," mumbles Hermann.

The doorbell sounds.

Hermann startles, hisses; Dottie lifts her head; Edan throws himself out of the chair.

"What's—"

Edan twitches open the door. "Are you—"

"The Frenchmen sent me. Where's he?" snips the small woman on the threshold.

He opens the door a little wider. "In-in the bedroom. I'll—"

She pushes past, stride clipped.

Edan hustles after her, catches up as she crouches next to the bed.

"Who are you?" growls Hermann.

"Doctor Yiannaki. I don't ask questions and I'm here for your arm."

Hermann exhales. "Fine."

"You made a hash of these clothes."

"He did it."

Yiannaki frowns at Edan.

He puffs up. "I'm an astrophysicist, not a doctor. Or a tailor."

She laughs a bit at that, finds some scissors in the satchel she brought along. "You taken anything beside your normal meds?"

"No."

"Good." Cuts the sleeves clean off, slits the side seams of the jumpers and the shirt.

"Not the wrap."

"Alright." Yiannaki folds the front half back, lifts the ice away, takes a close look at Hermann's even more swollen, even purpler arm. "I'll need to set this."

Hermann sniffs.

Edan hovers.

She brings out an alcohol wipe, a vial, and a needle. "I'm gonna jab you with something to numb this so I can set it without you screaming blue murder, yea?"

Edan cringes.

"Fine," Hermann replies.

Dottie looks across Hermann, woffles.

"Get that dog out of here."

Edan jumps. "Dottie, please come."

With a quick glance at Hermann and Yiannaki, Dottie slinks off the bed, tail low.

"Thank you, sweet." Edan leads her to the door, stuffs her out, shuts the door, whirls.

"Feel that?"

"No."

Yiannaki prods and presses the bruised area. "Right. This'll make a horrible sound."

"Heard it before," mumbles Hermann.

"On three, then. One ... two ... three."

She's right: it's a **horrible** sound.

Edan's stomach lurches into his throat and his eyes slam shut.

When he pries them open again, Yiannaki's wrapping a plastic and cloth brace around Hermann's arm. She checks his pulse, nods approval, gathers bits and bobs from the duvet into her satchel, stands, and strides out the door.

"That's **it**?" squeaks Edan, dodging Dottie and pursuing.

"Yea. Except—" She pulls a bottle from an outside pocket of the bag, puts it in Edan's hand. "—feed him one of these every six hours if his normal meds stop cutting it."

"O-okay."

"Don't let him take the cuff off for three days, then only for washing up for the next month." Settles the satchel on her shoulder. "If his lower arm or hand turn purple, he gets red streaks on the arm or loses his pulse in that wrist, get the cuff off and call the Frenchmen again immediately."

"Will—" Swallows. "—do."

"Good. Then I'm off."

"Thanks—" Edan clears his throat. "Thank you, Doctor."

Yiannaki shrugs, heads for the door and out.

Edan locks up, slumps against the wall, tries to breathe around a stuttering heart. He pushes off, sprints back to the bedroom.

Dottie lies on the bed, curled up against Hermann's side.

"Any-anything I can do for you?"

"Not just now." Hermann smiles a bit. "I'm waiting for the floatiness from the second shot she gave me to kick in."

Edan's heart drops. "She gave you two?"

"Just the anesthetic and something else for the pain."

Edan sags into the chair, lets his head roll back, swallows. "I suppose floaty is good?"

"Much better than the ache from something like this."

Edan hums.

They rest like that a while.

"Edan?"

He sits up. "Hmm?"

"Who was that?"

"I don't rightly know? I, uh, called the number Dietrich gave me and she showed up?"

"What number was that?"

"Some foreign one. Bloke on the other end spoke French."

Hermann inhales deeply. "Edan, under **no** circumstances call that number again."

"But—"

" **Ever.** "

"Hermann, what's—"

"I want **nothing** to do with those people."

"But who **are** —"

"Let me sleep, please."

"A-alright." Swallows. "Is it alright if I stay here and read?"

"That's fine."

"Goodnight, then, _leannan_."

Hermann grunts.

Edan drags a hand down his face, pulls out his mobile and loads up a book, tries not to think about what'd just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo by [Micha](https://www.flickr.com/photos/michasfotos/) [[CC BY-NC-SA 2.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/)] via [Flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/michasfotos/7717667396/).
> 
> Yeah, I'm like those cats who knock things off tables just to see what happens. 
> 
> Edan makes an especially entertaining target because he's so desperately determined to alleviate others' suffering and do the right thing while still avoiding conflict. He gets pulled in all sorts of directions and I never quite know how he's going to deal with situations like this. Other than he's going to do his best.

**Author's Note:**

> Please see "[Constants](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7642861)" for the first encounter between Hermann and Edan.
> 
> All of these chapters beta-d by the most-wonderous artificiallifecreator.


End file.
